MIGHTY  I    ATOM 


MARIE  CORELLI 


LIBRARY 

wty  •!  Cal 

IRVINE 


[BRARY 


THE  UNIVERSITY 


OF  CAT  [FORNIA 


GIFT  OF 

LEISURE  WORLD  LIBRARY 
LACUNA  HILLS 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM 


By 

MARIE  CORELLI 


AUTHOR    OF    "  THE     SORROWS    OF     SATAN, 
"  BARABBAS,"  "  CAMEOS,"  "  VENDETTA,"  ETC. 


PHILADELPHIA 

J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY 
1897. 


Mis  Florenct  G.  Bailey 
76  Fellsway,  West 

Somerville  Massachusetts 


COPYRIGHT,  1896, 

BY 
J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY. 


ELECTROTVPED  AND  PRINTED  BY  J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY,  PHILADELPHIA,  U.S.A. 


TO 

THOSE  SELF-STYLED   "  PROGRESSIVISTS," 

WHO    BY   PRECEPT  AND   EXAMPLE 

ASSIST   THE   INFAMOUS 

CAUSE   OF 

EDUCATION  WITHOUT   RELIGION 

AND   WHO,  BY   PROMOTING   THE   IDEA,  BORROWED   FROM 

FRENCH    ATHEISM,    OF    DENYING    TO    THE 

CHILDREN   IN    BOARD-SCHOOLS 

AND   ELSEWHERE, 

THE  KNOWLEDGE  AND  LOVE  OF  GOD 

AS   THE  TRUE   FOUNDATION  OF  NOBLE 
LIVING, 

ARE  GUILTY 

OF  A  WORSE  CRIME  THAN  MURDER. 


THE    MIGHTY    ATOM 


CHAPTER    I. 

A  HEAVY  storm  had  raged  all  day  on  the  north 
coast  of  Devon.  Summer  had  worn  the  garb  of 
winter  in  a  freakish  fit  of  mockery  and  masquer- 
ade; and  even  among  the  sheltered  orchards 
of  the  deeply-embowered  valley  of  Combmartin, 
many  a  tough  and  gnarled  branch  of  many  a 
sturdy  apple-tree  laden  with  reddening  fruit,  had 
been  beaten  to  the  ground  by  the  fury  of  the 
blast  and  the  sweeping  gusts  of  rain.  Only  now, 
towards  late  afternoon,  were  the  sullen  skies  be- 
ginning to  clear.  The  sea  still  lashed  the  rocks 
with  angry  thuds  of  passion,  but  the  strength  of 
the  wind  was  gradually  sinking  into  a  mere  breeze, 
and  a  warm  saffron  light  in  the  west  showed 
where  the  sun,  obscured  for  so  many  hours,  was 
about  to  hide  his  glowing  face  altogether  for  the 
night,  behind  the  black  vizor  of  our  upward-moving 
earth.  The  hush  of  the  gloaming  began  to  per- 
meate nature ;  flowers,  draggled  with  rain,  essayed 

i*  5 


6  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

to  lift  their  delicate  stems  from  the  mould  where 
they  had  been  bowed  prone  and  almost  broken, — 
and  a  little  brown  bird  fluttering  joyously  out  of 
a  bush  where  it  had  taken  shelter  from  the  tempest, 
alighted  on  a  window-sill  of  one  of  the  nearest 
human  habitations  it  could  perceive,  and  there  piped 
a  gentle  roundelay  for  the  cheering  and  encourage- 
ment of  those  within  before  so  much  as  preening 
a  feather.  The  window  was  open,  and  in  the  room 
beyond  it  a  small  boy  sat  at  a  school-desk  reading, 
and  every  now  and  then  making  pencil  notes  on 
a  large  folio  sheet  of  paper  beside  him.  He  was 
intent  upon  his  work, — yet  he  turned  quickly  at 
the  sound  of  the  bird's  song  and  listened,  his  deep 
thoughtful  eyes  darkening  and  softening  with  a 
liquid  look  as  of  unshed  tears.  It  was  only  for 
a  moment  that  he  thus  interrupted  his  studies, — 
anon,  he  again  bent  over  the  book  before  him 
with  an  air  of  methodical  patience  and  resignation 
strange  to  see  in  one  so  young.  He  might  have 
been  a  bank  clerk,  or  an  experienced  accountant  in 
a  London  merchant's  office,  from  his  serious  old- 
fashioned  manner,  instead  of  a  child  barely  eleven 
years  of  age ;  indeed,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  there  was 
an  almost  appalling  expression  of  premature  wisdom 
on  his  pale  wistful  features  ; — the  "  thinking  furrow" 
already  marked  his  forehead, — and  what  should  still 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  7 

have  been  the  babyish  upper  curve  of  his  sensitive 
little  mouth,  was  almost  though  not  quite  obliter- 
ated by  a  severe  line  of  constantly  practised  self- 
restraint.  Stooping  his  fair  curly  head  over  the 
printed  page  more  closely  as  the  day  darkened, 
he  continued  reading,  pondering,  and  writing;  and 
the  bird,  which  had  come  to  assure  him  as  well 
as  it  could,  that  fine  bright  weather, — such  weather 
as  boys  love, — might  be  expected  to-morrow,  seemed 
disappointed  that  its  gay  carol  was  not  more  appre- 
ciated. At  any  rate  it  ceased  singing,  and  began 
to  plume  itself  with  fastidious  grace  and  prettiness, 
peering  round  at  the  youthful  student  from  time  to 
time  inquisitively,  as  much  as  to  say, — "  What  won- 
der is  this  ?  The  rain  is  over, — the  air  is  fresh, — 
the  flowers  are  fragrant, — there  is  light  in  the  sky, — 
all  the  world  of  nature  is  glad,  and  rejoices, — yet 
here  is  a  living  creature  shut  up  with  a  book  which 
surely  God  never  had  the  making  of! — and  his  face 
is  wan,  and  his  eyes  are  sad,  and  he  seems  not  to 
know  the  meaning  of  joy !" 

The  burning  bars  of  saffron  widened  in  the  western 
heavens, — shafts  of  turquoise-blue,  pale  rose,  and 
chrysoprase  flashed  down  towards  the  sea  like  re- 
flections from  the  glory  of  some  unbarred  gate  of 
Paradise, — and  the  sun,  flaming  with  August  fires, 
suddenly  burst  forth  in  all  his  splendour.  Full  on 


8  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

Combmartin,  with  its  grey  old  church,  stone  cot- 
tages, and  thatched  roofs  overgrown  with  flowers, 
the  cheerful  radiance  fell,  bathing  it  from  end  to  end 
in  a  shower  of  gold, — the  waves  running  into  the 
quiet  harbour  caught  the  lustrous  glamour  and 
shone  with  deep  translucent  glitterings  of  amber 
melting  into  green, — and  through  the  shadows  of 
the  room  where  the  solitary  little  student  sat  at 
work,  a  bright  ray  came  dancing,  and  glistened  on 
his  bent  head  like  the  touch  of  some  passing  angel's 
benediction.  Just  then  the  door  opened,  and  a 
young  man  entered,  clad  in  white  boating  flannels. 

"  Still  at  it,  Lionel !"  he  said,  kindly.  "  Look 
here,  drop  it  all  for  to-day !  The  storm  is  quite 
over ; — come  with  me,  and  I'll  take  you  for  a  pull 
on  the  water." 

Lionel  looked  up,  half  surprised,  half  afraid. 

"  Does  he  say  I  may  go,  Mr.  Montrose?" 

"  I  haven't  asked  him,"  replied  Montrose,  curtly, 
"  /  say  you  may, — and  not  only  that  you  may,  but 
that  you  must!  I'm  your  tutor, — at  least  for  the 
present, — and  you  know  you've  got  to  obey  me, 
or  else !" 

Here  he  squared  himself,  and  made  playfully 
threatening  gestures  after  the  most  approved 
methods  of  boxing. 

The  boy  smiled,  and  rose  from  his  chair. 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  9 

"  I  don't  think  I  get  on  very  fast,"  he  said, 
apologetically,  with  a  doubtful  glance  at  the  volume 
over  which  he  had  been  poring — "  It's  all  my  stu- 
pidity, I  suppose,  but  sometimes  it  seems  a  muddle 
to  me,  and  more  often  still  it  seems  useless.  How, 
for  instance,  can  I  feel  any  real  interest  in  the 
amount  of  the  tithes  that  were  paid  to  certain 
bishops  in  England  in  the  year  1054?  I  don't 
care  what  was  paid,  and  I'm  sure  I  never  shall  care. 
It  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  way  people  live  now- 
adays, has  it  ?" 

"  No, — but  it  goes  under  the  head  of  general  in- 
formation,"— answered  Montrose,  laughing, — "  Any- 
how, you  can  leave  the  tithes  alone  for  the  present, 
— forget  them, — and  forget  all  the  bishops  and  kings 
too  if  you  like !  You  look  fagged  out, — what  do 
you  say  to  a  first-class  Devonshire  tea  at  Miss 
Payne's  ?" 

"  Jolly !"  and  a  flash  of  something  like  merriment 
lit  up  Lionel's  small  pale  face — "  But  we'll  go  on 
the  water  first,  please !  It  will  soon  be  sunset,  and 
I  love  to  watch  a  sunset  from  the  sea." 

Montrose  was  silent.  Standing  at  the  open  door 
he  waited,  attentively  observing  meanwhile  the  quiet 
and  precise  movements  of  his  young  pupil  who  was 
now  busy  putting  away  his  books  and  writing  ma- 
terials. He  did  this  with  an  almost  painful  care: 


10  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

wiping  his  pen,  re-sharpening  his  pencil  to  be  ready 
for  use  when  he  came  back  to  work  again,  folding 
a  scattered  sheet  or  two  of  paper  neatly,  dusting  the 
desk,  setting  up  the  volume  concerning  "  tithes"  and 
what  not,  on  a  particular  shelf,  and  looking  about 
him  in  evident  anxiety  lest  he  should  have  forgotten 
some  trifle.  His  tutor,  though  a  man  of  neat  taste 
and  exemplary  tidiness  himself,  would  have  preferred 
to  see  this  mere  child  leaving  everything  in  a  dis- 
orderly heap,  and  rushing  out  into  the  fresh  air  with 
a  wild  whoop  and  bellow.  But  he  gave  his  thoughts 
no  speech,  and  studied  the  methodical  goings  to  and 
fro  of  the  patient  little  lad  from  under  his  half- 
drooped  eyelids  with  an  expression  of  mingled  kind- 
ness and  concern,  till  at  last,  the  room  being  set  in 
as  prim  an  order  as  that  of  some  fastidious  old 
spinster,  Lionel  took  down  his  red  jersey-cap  from 
its  own  particular  peg  in  the  wall,  put  it  on,  and 
smiled  up  confidingly  at  his  stalwart  companion. 

"  Now,  Mr.  Montrose !"  he  said. 

Montrose  started  as  from  a  reverie. 

"  Ah  !     That's  it !     Now's  the  word !" 

Flinging  on  his  own  straw  hat,  and  softly  whistling 
a  lively  tune  as  he  went,  he  led  the  way  downstairs 
and  out  of  the  house,  the  little  Lionel  following  in 
his  footsteps  closely  and  somewhat  timidly.  Their 
two  figures  could  soon  be  discerned  among  the  flow- 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  1 1 

ers  and  shrubs  of  the  garden  as  they  passed  across 
it  towards  the  carriage  gate  which  opened  directly 
on  to  the  high  road, — and  a  woman  watching  them 
from  an  upper  window  pushed  her  fair  face  through 
a  tangle  of  fuchsias  and  called, — 

"  Playing  truant,  Mr.  Montrose  ?  That's  right ! 
Always  do  what  you're  told  not  to  do !  Good-bye, 
Lylie!" 

Lionel  looked  up  and  waved  his  cap. 

"  Good-bye,  mother !" 

The  beautiful  face  framed  in  red  fuchsia  flowers 
softened  at  the  sound  of  the  child's  clear  voice, — 
anon,  it  drew  back  into  the  shadow  and  disap- 
peared. 

The  woods  and  hills  around  Combmartin  were 
now  all  aglow  with  the  warm  luminance  of  the  de- 
scending sun,  and  presently,  out  on  the  sea  which 
was  still  rough  and  sparkling  with  a  million  dia- 
mond-like points  of  spray,  a  small  boat  was  seen, 
tossing  lightly  over  the  crested  billows.  William 
Montrose,  B.A., "  oor  Willie,"  as  some  of  his  affection- 
ate Highland  relatives  called  him,  pulled  at  the  oars 
with  dash  and  spirit,  and  Lionel  Valliscourt,  only 
son  and  heir  of  John  Valliscourt  of  Valliscourt  in 
the  county  of  Somerset,  sat  curled  up,  not  in  the 
stern,  but  almost  at  the  end  of  the  prow,  his  dreamy 
eyes  watching  with  keen  delight  every  wave  that  ad- 


12  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

vanced  to  meet  the  little  skiff  and  break  against  it  in 
an  opaline  shower. 

"  I  say,  Mr.  Montrose  !"  he  shouted — "  This  is 
glorious !" 

"Aye,  aye!"  responded  Montrose,  B.A.,  with  a 
deep  breath  and  an  extra  pull—"  Life's  a  fine  thing 
when  you  get  it  in  big  dosesjjj 

Lionel  did  not  hear  this  observation, — he  was  ab- 
sorbed in  catching  a  string  of  seaweed,  slimy  and  un- 
profitable to  most  people,  but  very  beautiful  in  his 
eyes.  There  were  hundreds  of  delicate  little  shells 
knitted  into  it,  as  fragile  and  fine  as  pearls,  and  every 
such  tiny  casket  held  a  life  as  frail.  Ample  material 
for  meditation  was  there  in  this  tangle  of  mysterious 
organisms  marvellously  perfect,  and  while  he  mi- 
nutely studied  the  dainty  net-work  of  ocean's  weav- 
ing, across  the  young  boy's  mind  there  flitted  the 
dark  shadow  of  the  inscrutable  and  unseen.  He 
asked  within  himself,  just  as  the  oldest  and  wisest 
scholars  have  asked  to  their  dying  day,  the  "  why" 
of  things, — the  cause  for  the  prolific  creation  of  so 
many  apparently  unnecessary  objects,  such  as  a  sep- 
arate universe  of  shells,  for  example, — what  was  the 
ultimate  intention  of  it  all  ?  He  thought  earnestly, 
and,  thinking,  grew  sorrowful,  child  though  he  was, 
with  the  hopeless  sorrow  of  Ecclesiastes  the 
Preacher,  and  his  incessant  cry  of  "  Vanitas  vanita 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  13 

tern!"  Meantime,  the  heavens  were  ablaze  with 
glory, — the  two  rims  of  the  friendly  planets,  earth 
and  the  sun,  seemed  to  touch  one  another  on  the 
edge  of  the  sea, — then,  the  bright  circle  was  covered 
by  the  dark,  and  the  soft  haze  of  a  purple  twilight 
began  to  creep  over  the  "  Hangman's  Hills,"  as  they 
are  curiously  styled, — the  Great  and  the  Little  Hang- 
man. There  is  nothing  about  these  grassy  slopes  at  all 
suggestive  of  capital  punishment,  and  they  appear  to 
have  derived  their  names  from  a  legend  of  the 
country,  which  tells  how  a  thief,  running  away  with 
a  stolen  sheep  tied  across  his  back,  was  summarily 
and  unexpectedly  punished  for  his  misdeed  by  the 
sheep  itself,  who  struggled  so  violently  as  to  pull  the 
cord  which  fastened  it  close  round  its  captor's  throat 
in  a  thoroughly  "  hangman"-like  manner,  thus  killing 
him  on  the  spot.  The  two  promontories  form  a  bold 
and  picturesque  headland  as  seen  from  the  sea,  and 
Willie  Montrose,  resting  for  a  moment  on  his  oars, 
looked  up  at  them  admiringly,  and  almost  with  love 
in  his  eyes,  just  because  they  reminded  him  of  a 
favourite  little  bit  of  coast  scenery  in  his  own  more 
romantic  and  beautiful  Scottish  land.  Then  he 
brought  his  gaze  down  to  the  curled-up  small  figure 
of  his  pupil,  who  was  still  absorbed  in  the  con- 
templation of  his  treasure-trove  of  sea-weed  and 
shells. 


14  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

"  What  have  you  got  there,  Lionel  ?"    he  asked. 

The  boy  turned  round  and  faced  him. 

"  Thousands  of  little  people !"  he  answered,  with 
a  smile, — "  All  in  pretty  little  houses  of  their  own, 
too, — look !"  and  he  held  up  his  dripping  trophy, — 
"  It's  quite  a  city,  isn't  it  ? — and  I  shouldn't  wonder 
if  the  inhabitants  thought  almost  as  much  of  them- 
selves as  we  do."  His  eyes  darkened,  and  the  smile 
on  his  young  face  vanished.  "  What  do  you  think 
about  it,  Mr.  Montrose  ?  /  don't  see  that  we  are  a 
bit  more  valuable  in  the  universe  than  these  little 
shell-people." 

Montrose  made  no  immediate  reply.  He  pulled 
out  a  big  silver  watch  and  glanced  at  it. 

"Tea-time!"  he  announced,  abruptly — "Put  the 
shell-people  back  in  their  own  native  element,  my 
boy,  and  don't  ask  me  any  conundrums  just  now, 
please !  Take  an  oar !" 

With  a  flush  of  pleasure,  Lionel  obeyed, — first 
dropping  the  seaweed  carefully  into  a  frothy  billow 
that  just  then  shouldered  itself  up  caressingly 
against  the  boat,  and  watching  it  float  away.  Then 
he  pulled  at  the  oar  manfully  enough  with  his  weak 
little  arms, — while  Montrose,  controlling  his  own 
strength  that  it  might  not  overbalance  that  of  the 
child,  noted  his  exertions  with  a  grave  and  some- 
what pitying  air.  The  tide  was  flowing  in,  and  the 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  15 

boat  went  swiftly  with  it, — the  healthful  exercise 
sent  colour  into  Lionel's  pale  cheeks  and  lustre 
into  his  deep-set  eyes,  so  that  when  they  finally 
ran  their  little  craft  ashore  and  sprang  out  of  it, 
the  boy  looked  as  nature  meant  all  boys  to  look, 
bright  and  happy-hearted,  and  the  sad  little  furrow 
on  his  forehead,  so  indicative  of  painful  thought 
and  study,  was  scarcely  perceptible.  Glancing  first 
up  at  the  darkening  skies,  then  at  his  own  clothes 
sprinkled  with  salt  spray,  he  laughed  joyously  as 
he  said, — 

"  I'm  afraid  we  shall  catch  it  when  we  get  home, 
Mr.  Montrose." 

"/  shall, — you  won't,"  returned  Montrose,  im- 
perturbably.  "  But, — as  it's  my  last  evening, — it 
doesn't  matter." 

All  the  mirth  faded  from  Lionel's  face  and  he 
uttered  a  faint  cry  of  wonder  and  distress. 

"  Your  last  evening  ? — oh,  no  ! — surely  not !  You 
don't, — you  can't  mean  it !"  he  faltered,  nervously. 

Willie  Montrose's  honest  blue  eyes  softened  with 
a  great  tenderness  and  compassion. 

"  Come  along,  laddie,  and  have  your  tea !"  he 
said  kindly,  his  tongue  lapsing  somewhat  into  his 
own  soft  Highland  accentuation ;  "  come  along, 
and  I'll  tell  you  all  about  it.  Life  is  like  being 
out  on  the  sea  yonder, — a  body  must  take  the 


1 6  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

rough  with  the  smooth  and  just  make  the  best  of  it. 
One  mustn't  mind  a  few  troubles  now  and  then, — 
and — and — partings  and  the  like ;  you've  often  heard 
that  the  best  of  friends  must  part,  haven't  you  ? 
There  now,  don't  look  so  downcast ! — come  along  to 
Miss  Payne's  cottage  where  we  can  get  the  best 
cream  in  all  Devonshire,  and  we'll  have  a  jolly 
spread  and  a  talk  out,  shall  we  ?" 

But  Lionel  stood  mute, — the  colour  left  his 
cheeks,  and  his  little  mouth  once  more  became  set 
and  stern. 

"  I  know !"  he  said  at  last,  slowly,  "  I  know 
exactly  what  you  have  to  tell  me,  Mr.  Montrose! 
My  father  is  sending  you  away.  I  am  not  surprised; 
oh,  no !  I  thought  it  would  happen  soon.  You  see 
you  have  been  too  kind, — too  easy  with  me, — that's 
what  it  is.  No, — I'm  not  going  to  cry," — here  he 
choked  back  a  little  rising  sob  bravely, — "you 
mustn't  think  that, — I  am  glad  you  are  going  away 
for  your  own  sake,  but  I'm  sorry  for  myself, — very 
sorry !  I'm  always  feeling  sorry  for  myself, — isn't  it 
cowardly !  Marcus  Aurelius  says  the  worst  form  of 
cowardice  is  self-pity." 

"  Oh,  hang  Marcus  Aurelius  !"  burst  out  Montrose. 

Lionel  smiled, — a  dreary  little  cynical  smile. 

"  Shall  we  go  and  have  our  tea  ?"  he  suggested, 
quietly — "  I'm  ready." 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  17 

And  they  walked  slowly  up  from  the  shore  to- 
gether,— the  young  man  with  a  light  yet  leisurely 
tread,  the  child  with  wearily-dragging  feet  that 
seemed  scarcely  able  to  support  his  body.  Painful 
thoughts  and  forebodings  kept  them  silent,  and  they 
exchanged  not  a  word  even  when  a  sudden  red  and 
golden  after-glow  flashed  across  the  sea  as  the  very 
last  salutation  of  the  vanished  sun, — indeed  they 
scarcely  saw  the  fiery  splendour  that  would,  at  a 
happier  moment,  have  been  a  perfect  feast  of  beauty 
to  their  eyes.  Turning  away  from  the  principal 
street  of  the  village  they  bent  their  steps  towards  a 
small  thatched  cottage,  overgrown  from  porch  to 
roof  with  climbing  roses,  fuchsias  and  jessamine, 
where  an  unobtrusive  signboard  might  be  just  dis- 
cerned framed  in  a  wreath  of  brilliant  nasturtiums, 
and  bearing  the  following  device : 

CLARINDA  CLEVERLY  PAYNE. 

NEW   LAID   EGGS.         DEVONSHIRE   CREAM.        JUNKETS. 
TEAS  PROVIDED. 

Within  this  rustic  habitation,  tutor  and  pupil  dis- 
appeared, and  the  pebbly  shore  of  Combmartin  was 
left  in  the  possession  of  two  ancient  mariners,  who, 
seated  side  by  side  on  the  overhanging  wall,  smoked 


1 8  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

their  pipes  together  in  solemn  silence  and  watched 
the  gradual  smoothing  of  the  sea  as  it  spread  itself 
out  in  wider,  longer,  and  more  placid  undulations,  as 
though  submissively  preparing  for  the  coming  of  its 
magnetic  mistress,  the  moon. 


CHAPTER    II. 

THAT  same  evening,  John  Valliscourt,  Esquire,  of 
Valliscourt,  sat  late  over  his  after-dinner  wine,  con- 
versing with  a  languid,  handsome-featured  person 
known  as  Sir  Charles  Lascelles,  Baronet.  Sir 
Charles  was  a  notable  figure  in  "  swagger"  society, 
and  he  had  been  acquainted  with  the  Valliscourts 
for  some  time,  in  fact  he  was  almost  an  "  old  friend" 
of  theirs,  as  social  "  old  friends"  go,  that  phrase 
nowadays  merely  meaning  about  a  year's  mutual 
visiting,  without  any  unpleasant  strain  on  the  feel- 
ings or  the  pockets  of  either  party.  Whenever  the 
Valliscourts  were  in  town  for  the  season  at  their 
handsome  residence  in  Grosvenor  Place,  Sir  Charles 
was  always  "  dropping  in,"  and  dropping  out  again, 
a  constant  and  welcome  guest,  a  purveyor  of  fashion- 
able scandals,  and  a  thoroughly  reliable  informant 
concerning  the  ins  and  outs  of  the  newest  approach- 
ing divorce.  But  his  appearance  at  Combmartin  was 
quite  unlooked-for,  he  having  been  supposed  to  have 
gone  to  his  "  little  place"  (an  estate  of  several  thou- 
sand acres)  in  Inverness-shire.  And  it  was  concern- 
ing his  present  change  of  plan  and  humour  that  Mr. 

'9 


20  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

Valliscourt  was  just  now  rallying  him  in  ponder- 
ously playful  fashion. 

"  Ya-as !"  drawled  Sir  Charles,  in  answer — "  I 
have  doosid  habits  of  caprice.  Never  know  what 
I'm  going  to  do  from  one  day  to  another!  Fact, 
I  assure  you !  You  see  a  chum  of  mine  has  got 
Watermouth  Castle  for  a  few  weeks,  and  he  asked 
me  to  join  his  house-party.  That's  how  it  is  I 
happen  to  be  here." 

Mrs.  Valliscourt,  who  had  left  the  dinner-table 
and  was  seated  in  a  lounge  chair  near  the  open 
window,  looked  round  and  smiled.  Her  smile  was 
a  very  beautiful  one, — her  large  flashing  eyes  and 
brilliantly  white  teeth  gave  it  a  sun-like  dazzle  that 
amazed  and  half  bewitched  any  man  who  was  not 
quite  prepared  to  meet  it. 

"  I  suppose  you  are  all  very  select  at  Water- 
mouth," — observed  Mr.  Valliscourt,  cracking  a  wal- 
nut and  beginning  to  peel  the  kernel  with  a  de- 
liberate and  fastidious  nicety  which  showed  off  his 
long,  white,  well-kept  fingers  to  admirable  advantage 
— "  Nothing  lower  than  a  baronet,  eh  ?" 

And  he  laughed  softly. 

Sir  Charles  gave  him  a  quick  glance  from  under 
his  lazily  drooping  eyelids  that  might  have  startled 
him  had  he  perceived  it.  Malice,  derision,  and 
intense  hatred  were  expressed  in  it,  and  for  a  second 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  21 

it  illumined  the  face  on  which  it  gleamed  with  a 
wicked  flash  as  of  hell-fire.  It  vanished  almost  as 
quickly  as  it  had  shone,  and  a  reply  was  given  in 
such  quiet,  listless  tones  as  betrayed  nothing  of  the 
speaker's  feelings. 

"  Well,  I  really  don't  know !  There's  a  painter 
fellow  staying  with  us, — one  of  those  humbugs 
called  '  rising  artists,' — gives  himself  doosid  airs 
too.  He's  got  a  commission  to  do  the  castle.  Of 
course  he  isn't  thought  much  of, — we  keep  him  in 
his  place  as  much  as  we  can, — still  he's  there,  and 
he  doesn't  dine  with  the  servants,  either.  The  rest 
are  the  usual  lot, — dowagers  with  marriageable  but 
penniless  daughters, — two  or  three  ugly  '  advanced' 
young  women  who  have  brought  their  bicycles  and 
go  tearing  about  the  country  all  day,  and  a  few  stupid 
old  peers.  It's  rather  slow.  I  was  bored  to  exhaus- 
tion at  the  general  tea-meeting  this  afternoon,  so 
knowing  you  were  here  I  thought  I'd  ride  over  and 
see  you." 

"  Delighted  !"  said  Mr.  Valliscourt,  politely—"  But 
may  I  ask  how  you  knew  we  were  here  ?" 

Sir  Charles  bit  his  lip  to  hide  a  little  smile,  as  he 
answered,  lightly, — 

"  Oh,  everybody  knows  everything  in  these  little 
out-of-the-way  villages.  Besides,  when  you  take  the 
only  available  large  house  in  Combmartin  you  can't 


22  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

expect  to  hide  your  light  under  a  bushel.  It's  really 
a  charming  old  place,  too." 

"  It's  a  barrack,"  said  Mrs.  Valliscourt,  speaking 
now  for  the  first  time,  and  looking  straight  at  her 
husband  as  she  did  so.  "  It's  excessively  damp,  and 
very  badly  furnished.  Of  course  it  could  be  made 
delightful  if  anybody  were  silly  enough  to  spend  a 
couple  of  thousand  pounds  upon  it;  but  as  it  is,  I 
cannot  possibly  imagine  why  John  took  such  a  hor- 
rid little  hole  for  a  summer  holiday  residence." 

"  You  know  very  well  why  I  took  it,"  returned 
Mr.  Valliscourt,  stiffly — "  It  was  not  for  my  personal 
enjoyment,  nor  for  yours.  I  am  old  enough,  I  pre- 
sume, to  do  without  what  certain  foolish  people  call 
'  a  necessary  change,'  and  so  are  you  for  that  matter. 
I  was  advised  to  give  Lionel  the  benefit  of  sea-air, 
and  as  I  was  anxious  to  avoid  the  noise  and  racket 
of  ordinary  sea-side  places,  as  well  as  the  undesirable 
companionship  of  other  people's  children  who  might 
endeavour  to  associate  with  my  son,  I  chose  a  house 
at  Combmartin  because  I  considered,  and  still  con- 
sider, Combmartin  perfectly  suited  for  my  purpose. 
Combmartin  being  off  the  line  of  railway  and  some- 
what difficult  of  access,  is  completely  retired  and 
thoroughly  unfashionable, — and  Lionel  will  be  able 
to  continue  his  holiday  tasks  under  an  efficient  tutor 
without  undue  distraction  or  interruption." 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  23 

He  said  all  this  in  a  dry  methodical  way,  crack- 
ing walnuts  between  whiles,  with  a  curious  air  as  of 
coldly  civil  protest  against  the  vulgarity  of  eating 
them. 

Mrs.  Valliscourt  turned  her  head  away,  and  looked 
out  into  the  tangled  garden  where  the  foliage,  glis- 
tening with  the  day's  long  rain,  sparkled  in  the  silver 
gleam  of  the  rising  moon.  Sir  Charles  Lascelles 
said  nothing  for  a  few  moments, — then  he  suddenly 
broke  silence  with  a  question.  "  You  are  giving 
Montrose  the  sack,  aren't  you  ?" 

"  I  am  dismissing  Mr.  Montrose, — yes,  certainly," 
replied  Valliscourt,  his  hard  mouth  compressing 
itself  into  harder  lines, — "  Mr.  Montrose  is  too  young 
for  his  place,  and  too  self-opinionated.  It  is  the 
fault  of  all  Scotchmen  to  think  too  much  of  them- 
selves. He  is  clever ;  I  do  not  deny  that ;  but  he 
does  not  work  Lionel  sufficiently.  He  is  fonder  of 
athletics  than  classics.  Now  in  my  opinion,  athletics 
are  altogether  overdone  in  England, — and  I  do  not 
want  my  son  to  grow  up  with  all  his  brains  in  his 
muscles.  His  intellectual  faculties  must  be  de- 
veloped  " 

"  At  the  expense  of  the  physical  ?"  interposed  Sir 
Charles — "Why  not  do  both  together?" 

"That  is  my  aim  and  intention," — said  Valliscourt, 
somewhat  pompously — "  but  Mr.  Montrose  is  not 


24  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

fitted  either  by  education  or  temperament  to  carry 
out  my  scheme.  In  fact,  he  has  refused  point-blank 
to  go  through  the  schedule  of  tuition  I  have  formu- 
lated for  the  holiday  tasks  of  my  son,  and  has  taken 
it  upon  himself  to  say  to  me, — to  me  ! — that  Lionel 
is  not  capable  of  such  a  course  of  study,  and  that 
complete  rest  is  what  the  boy  requires.  Of  course 
this  is  an  excuse  to  obtain  a  good  time  for  himself  in 
the  way  of  boating  and  other  out-of-door  amuse- 
ments. Moreover,  I  have  discovered,  to  my  extreme 
concern,  that  Mr.  Montrose  has  not  yet  thrown  off 
the  shackles  of  superstitious  legend  and  observance, 
and  that  in  spite  of  the  advance  of  science,  he  is 
really  not  much  better  than  a  savage  in  his  ideas  of 
the  universe.  He  actually  believes  in  Mumbo- 
Jumbo, — that  is,  God, — still ! — and  also  in  the  im- 
mortality of  the  soul !"  Here  Mr.  Valliscourt 
laughed  outright.  "  Of  course,  if  it  were  not  so 
ridiculous,  I  should  be  angry, — all  the  same,  one 
cannot  be  too  particular  in  the  matter  of  a  child's 
training  and  education,  and  I  am  considerably  an- 
noyed that  I  was  not  made  aware  of  these  barbarous 
predilections  and  prejudices  of  his  before  he  took 
up  a  responsible  position  in  my  house." 

"  Of  course  you  would  not  have  engaged  him  if 
you  had  known  ?"  queried  Sir  Charles. 

"  Certainly   not."      Here    Mr.  Valliscourt  looked 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  25 

at  his  watch.  "  Will  you  excuse  me  ?  It  is  nine 
o'clock,  and  I  told  Montrose  to  attend  me  at  that 
hour  in  my  study  to  receive  the  remaining  portion 
of  his  salary.  He  leaves  by  the  early  coach  to- 
morrow morning." 

Mrs.  Valliscourt  rose,  and  moved  with  an  elegant 
languor  towards  the  door. 

"  You  had  better  come  into  the  drawing-room, 
Sir  Charles,  and  have  a  chat  with  me,"  she  said, 
favouring  the  baronet  with  one  of  her  dazzling 
smiles  as  she  glanced  back  at  him  over  her 
shoulder, — "  I  suppose  you  are  in  no  very  special 
hurry  to  return  to  Watermouth  ?" 

"  No, — not  just  immediately !"  he  replied  with  an 
answering  smile,  as  he  followed  her  out  across  the 
square  oak-panelled  hall  and  into  the  apartment  she 
had  named,  which  had  the  merit  of  being  more 
comfortably  furnished  than  any  other  part  of  the 
house,  and  moreover  boasted  four  deep  bay-win- 
dows, each  one  commanding  different  and  equally 
beautiful  views  of  the  surrounding  country.  Mr. 
Valliscourt  meantime  went  in  an  opposite  direction, 
and  entered  a  small  parlour,  formerly  a  store-room, 
but  now  transformed  into  a  kind  of  study,  where  he 
found  William  Montrose,  B.A.,  awaiting  him. 

"  Oor  Willie"  looked  pale,  and  his  lips  were  hard 
set.  His  employer  nodded  to  him  carelessly  in 


2 6  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

passing,  and  then  sitting  down  at  his  office-desk, 
unlocked  a  drawer,  took  from  thence  his  cheque- 
book, and  wrote  out  a  sum  that  was  more  than 
"oor  Willie's"  due.  As  he  handed  it  over,  the 
young  man  glanced  at  it,  and  coloured  hotly. 

"  No,  thank  you,  Mr.  Valliscourt," — he  said, — 
"  The  exact  sum,  please,  and  not  a  farthing  over." 

"  What !"  exclaimed  Valliscourt,  in  a  satirical 
tone — "  A  Scotchman  refuse  an  extra  fee !  Is  this 
the  age  of  miracles  ?" 

Montrose  grew  paler,  but  kept  himself  quiet. 

"  Think  what  you  like  of  Scotchmen,  Mr.  Vallis- 
court," he  returned,  composedly — "  They  can  get 
on  without  your  good  opinion,  I  daresay,  and  cer- 
tainly they  need  none  of  my  defending.  I  merely 
refuse  to  accept  anything  I  have  not  honestly 
earned, — there  is  no  miracle  in  that,  I  fancy.  It 
is  not  as  if  I  took  my  dismissal  badly, — on  the 
contrary,  I  should  have  dismissed  myself  if  you 
had  not  forestalled  me.  I  will  have  no  share  in 
child-murder." 

If  a  bomb  had  exploded  in  the  little  room,  Mr. 
Valliscourt  could  not  have  looked  more  thoroughly 
astounded.  He  sprang  from  his  chair  and  con- 
fronted the  audacious  speaker  in  such  indignation 
as  almost  choked  his  utterance. 

"  Ch — ch — child-murder!"    he    spluttered,    trem- 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  27 

bling  all  over  in  the  excess  of  his  sudden  rage — 
"  D — d — did  I  hear  you  rightly,  sir  ?  Ch— child- 
murder!" 

"  I  repeat  it,  Mr.  Valliscourt," — said  Montrose, 
his  blue  eyes  now  flashing  dangerously  and  his 
lips  quivering — "  Child-murder  !  Take  the  phrase 
and  think  it  over!  You  have  only  one  child, — a 
boy  of  a  most  lovable  and  intelligent  disposition, 
— quick-brained, — too  quick-brained  by  half! — and 
you  are  killing  him  with  your  hard  and  fast  rules, 
and  your  pernicious  '  system*  of  intellectual  train- 
ing. You  deprive  him  of  such .  pastimes  and  ex- 
ercises as  are  necessary  to  his  health  and  growth, 
— you  surround  him  with  petty  tyrannies  which 
make  his  young  life  a  martyrdom, — you  give  him 
no  companions  of  his  own  age,  and  you  are,  as 
I  say,  murdering  him, — slowly,  perhaps,  but  none 
the  less  surely.  Any  physician  with  the  merest 
superficial  knowledge  of  his  business,  would  tell 
you  what  I  tell  you, — that  is,  any  physician  who 
preferred  truth  to  fees." 

White  with  passion,  Mr.  Valliscourt  snatched  up 
the  cheque  he  had  just  written  and  tore  it  into  frag- 
ments,— then  opening  another  drawer  in  his  desk, 
he  took  out  a  handful  of  notes  and  gold,  and  count- 
ing them  rapidly,  flung  them  upon  the  table. 

"  Hold   your   insolent   tongue,    sir !"    he   said    in 


28  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

hoarse  accents  of  ill-suppressed  fury, — "There  is 
your  money, — exact  to  a  farthing ;  take  it  and  go ! 
And  before  you  presume  to  apply  for  another  situa- 
tion as  tutor  to  the  son  of  a  gentleman,  you  had 
better  learn  to  know  your  place  and  put  a  check  on 
your  Scotch  conceit  and  impertinence !  Not  another 
word ! — go !" 

With  a  sudden  proud  lifting  of  his  head,  Montrose 
eyed  his  late  employer  from  heel  to  brow  and  from 
brow  to  heel  again,  in  the  disdainful  "  measuring" 
manner  known  to  fighting  men, — his  eyes  sparkled 
with  anger, — and  his  hands  involuntarily  clenched. 
Then,  all  at  once,  evidently  moved  by  some  thought 
which  restrained,  if  it  did  not  entirely  overcome  his 
wrath,  he  swept  up  his  wage  lightly  in  one  hand, 
turned  and  left  the  room  without  either  a  "  thank 
you"  or  "  good-evening."  When  he  had  gone,  John 
Valliscourt  burst  into  an  angry  laugh. 

"  Insolent  young  cub !"  he  muttered — "  How  such 
fellows  get  University  honours  and  recommenda- 
tions is  more  than  I  can  imagine !  Favouritism  and 
jobbery  I  suppose, — like  everything  else.  An  in- 
efficient, boastful,  lazy  Scotchman  if  ever  there  was 
one, — and  the  worst  companion  in  the  world  for 
Lionel.  The  boy  has  done  nothing  but  idle  away 
his  time  ever  since  he  came.  I'm  very  glad  Pro- 
fessor Cadman-Gore  is  able  to  accept  a  few  weeks 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  29 

of  holiday  tuition, — he  is  expensive,  certainly, — but 
he  will  remedy  all  the  mischief  Montrose  has  done, 
and  get  Lionel  on ; — he  is  a  thoroughly  reliable  man, 
too,  on  the  religious  question." 

Soothed  by  the  prospect  of  the  coming  of 
Professor  Cadman-Gore,  Mr.  Valliscourt  cooled 
down,  and  presently  went  to  join  his  wife  and  Sir 
Charles  Lascelles  in  the  drawing-room.  He  found 
that  apartment  empty,  however,  and  on  inquiry  of 
one  of  the  servants,  learnt  that  Sir  Charles  had  been 
gone  some  minutes,  and  that  Mrs.  Valliscourt  was 
walking  by  herself  in  the  garden.  Mr.  Valliscourt 
thereupon  went  to  one  of  the  deep  bay-windows 
which  stood  open,  and  sniffed  the  scented  summer 
air.  The  day's  rain  had  certainly  left  the  ground 
wet,  and  he  was  not  fond  of  strolling  about  under 
damp  trees.  The  moon  was  high,  and  very  beau- 
tiful in  her  clear  fullness,  but  Mr.  Valliscourt  did 
not  admire  moonlight  effects, — he  thought  all  that 
kind  of  thing  "  stagey."  The  grave  and  devotional 
silence  of  the  night  hallowed  the  landscape, — Mr. 
Valliscourt  disliked  silence,  and  he  therefore  coughed 
loudly  and  with  much  unpleasant  throat-scraping,  to 
disturb  it.  Throat-scraping  gave  just  the  necessary 
suggestion  of  prose  to  a  picture  which  would  oth- 
erwise have  been  purely  romantic, — a  picture  of 
shadowed  woodland  and  hill  and  silver  cloud  and 


30  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

purple  sky,  in  all  of  which  beauteous  presentments, 
mere  humanity  seemed  blotted  out  and  forgotten. 
Mr.  Valliscourt  coughed  his  ugly  cough  in  order  to 
get  humanity  into  it, — and  as  he  finished  the  last 
little  hawking  note  of  irritating  noise,  he  wondered 
where  his  wife  was.  The  garden  was  a  large  and 
rambling  one,  and  had  been  long  and  greatly  neg- 
lected, though  the  owners  of  the  place  had  shrewdly 
arranged  with  Mr.  Valliscourt,  when  he  had  taken 
the  house  for  three  months,  that  he  should  pay  a 
gardener  weekly  wages  to  attend  to  it.  A  decent 
but  dull  native  of  Combmartin  had  been  elected  to 
this  post,  and  his  exertions  had  certainly  effected 
something  in  the  way  of  clearing  the  paths  and 
keeping  them  clean, — but  he  was  apparently  incapa- 
ble of  dealing  with  the  wild  growth  of  sweet-briar, 
myrtle,  fuchsia,  and  bog-oak  that  had  sprung  up 
everywhere  in  the  erratic  yet  always  artistic  fashion 
of  mother  Nature,  when  she  is  left  to  design  her 
own  woodland  ways, — so  that  the  entire  pleas- 
aunce  was  more  a  wilderness  than  anything  else. 
Yet  it  had  its  attractions,  or  seemed  to  have,  at 
least  for  Mrs.  Valliscourt,  for  she  passed  nearly 
all  her  time  in  it.  Now,  however,  owing  to  the 
long  shadows,  her  husband  could  not  perceive 
her  anywhere,  though  presently,  as  he  stood  at 
the  window,  he  heard  her  voice  carolling  an  ab- 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  31 

surd  ditty,  of  which  he  caught  a  distinct  fragment 
concerning 


"  Gay 

We're  not  particular  what  we  do 
In  gay  Bo-hem-i-a^,"  — 

whereat  his  face,  cold  and  heavy-featured  as  it  was, 
grew  downright  ugly  in  its  expression  of  malign 
contempt. 

"  She  ought  to  have  been  a  music-hall  singer  !" 
he  said  to  himself  with  a  kind  of  inward  snarl  — 
"  She  has  all  the  taste  and  talent  required  for  it. 
And  to  think  she  is  actually  well  born  and  well 
educated  !  What  an  atrocious  anomaly  !" 

He  banged  the  window  to  violently  and  went 
within.  There  was  a  smoking-room  at  the  back 
of  the  house,  and  thither  he  retired  with  his  cigar- 
case,  and  one  of  the  dullest  of  all  the  various  dull 
evening  papers. 


CHAPTER    III. 

EARLY  the  next  morning  between  six  and  seven 
o'clock,  little  Lionel  Valliscourt  was  up  and  dressed 
and  sitting  by  his  bedroom  window,  cap  in  hand, 
waiting  eagerly  for  Montrose  to  appear.  He  was 
going  to  see  his  friendly  tutor  off  by  the  coach,  and 
the  idea  was  not  without  a  certain  charm  and  excite- 
ment. It  was  a  perfect  day,  bright  with  unclouded 
sunshine,  and  all  the  birds  were  singing  ecstatically. 
The  boy's  sensitive  soul  was  divided  between  sadness 
and  pleasure, — sadness  at  losing  the  companionship 
of  the  blithe,  kindly,  good-natured  young  fellow  who 
alone,  out  of  all  his  various  teachers,  had  seemed 
to  understand  and  sympathise  with  him, — pleasure 
at  the  novelty  of  getting  up  "  on  the  sly"  and  slip- 
ping out  and  away  without  his  father's  knowledge, 
and  seeing  the  coach  with  its  prancing  four  horses, 
its  jolly  driver  and  its  still  jollier  red-faced  guard,  all 
at  a  halt  outside  the  funny  old  inn,  called  by  various 
wags  the  "  Pack  o'  Cards"  on  account  of  its  peculiar 
structure, — and  watching  Mr.  Montrose  climb  up 
thereon  to  the  too-tootle-tooing  of  the  horn,  and  then 
finally,  beholding  the  whole  glorious  equipage  dash 
away  at  break-neck  speed  to  Barnstaple !  This  was 
32 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 


33 


something  for  a  boy,  as  mere  boy,  to  look  forward 
to  with  a  thrill  of  expectation ; — but  deep  down  in 
his  heart  of  hearts  he  was  thinking  of  another  de- 
light as  well, — a  plan  he  had  formed  in  secret,  and 
of  which  he  had  not  breathed  a  word,  even  to  Willie 
Montrose.  The  scheme  was  a  bold  and  dreadful 
one,  and  it  was  this, — to  run  away  for  the  day.  He 
did  not  wish  to  shirk  his  studies, — but  he  knew  there 
were  to  be  no  lessons  till  his  new  tutor,  Professor 
Cadman-Gore  arrived,  and  Professor  Cadman-Gore 
was  not  due  till  that  evening  at  ten  o'clock.  The 
whole  day  therefore  was  before  him, — the  long  beau- 
tiful sunshiny  day, — and  he,  in  his  own  mind,  re- 
solved that  he  would  for  once  make  the  best  of  it. 
He  had  no  wish  to  deceive  his  father, — his  desire  for 
an  "  escapade"  arose  out  of  an  instinctive  longing 
which  he  himself  had  not  the  skill  to  analyse, — a 
longing  not  only  for  freedom  but  for  rest.  Turning  it 
over  and  over  in  his  thoughts  now,  as  he  had  turned 
it  over  and  over  all  night,  poor  child,  he  could  not 
see  that  there  was  any  particular  harm  or  mischief 
in  his  intention.  Neither  his  father  nor  mother  ever 
wanted  him  or  sent  for  him  except  at  luncheon, 
which  was  his  dinner, — all  the  rest  of  the  time  he 
was  supposed  to«  be  with  his  tutor,  always  engaged 
in  learning  something  useful.  But  now,  it  so  hap- 
pened that  he  was  to  be  left  for  several  hours  with- 


34 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 


out  any  tutor,  and  why  should  he  not  take  the  chance 
of  liberty  while  it  was  offered  him  ?  He  was  still 
mentally  debating  this  question,  when  Montrose 
entered  softly,  portmanteau  in  hand. 

"  Come  along,  laddie !"  he  said,  with  a  kind  smile, 
— "  Step  gently !  Nobody's  astir, — and  I'll  aid  and 
abet  you  in  this  morning's  outing.  We're  going  to 
breakfast  together  at  Miss  Payne's, — the  coach  won't 
be  here  for  a  long  time  yet." 

Lionel  gave  a  noiseless  jump  of  delight  on  the 
floor,  and  then  did  as  he  was  told,  creeping  afcer  his 
tutor  down  the  stairs  like  a  velvet-footed  kitten,  and 
reddening  with  excess  of  timidity  and  pleasure  when 
the  big  hall-door  was  opened  cautiously  and  closed 
again  with  equal  care  behind  them,  and  they  stood 
together  among  the  honeysuckle  and  wild  rose- 
tangles  of  the  sweetly-scented  garden. 

"  Let  me  help  you  carry  your  portmanteau, 
Mr.  Montrose" — he  said,  sturdily — "  I'm  sure  I 
can !" 

"  I'm  sure  you  can't !"  returned  Montrose  with  a 
laugh.  "  Leave  it  alone,  my  boy, — it's  too  heavy  for 
you.  Here,  you  can  carry  my  Homer  instead !" 

Lionel  took  the  well-worn  leather-bound  volume, 
and  bore  it  along  in  both  hands  reverently  as  though 
it  were  a  sacred  relic. 

"  Where  are  you  going,  Mr.  Montrose  ?"  he  asked, 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 


35 


presently, — "  Have  you  got  another  boy  like  me  to 
teach  ?" 

"  No, — not  yet.  I  wonder  if  I  shall  manage  to 
find  another  boy  like  you,  eh  ?  Do  you  think  I 
shall  ?" 

Lionel  considered  seriously  for  a  moment  before 
replying. 

"  Well,  I  don't  know,"  he  said  at  last,—"  I  sup- 
pose there  must  be  some.  You  see  when  you're  an 
only  boy,  you  get  different  to  other  boys.  You've 
got  to  try  and  be  more  clever  you  know.  If  I  had 
two  or  three  brothers  now,  my  father  would  want  to 
make  every  one  of  them  clever,  and  he  wouldn't  have 
to  get  it  all  out  of  me.  That's  how  I  look  at  it." 

"  Oh,  that's  how  you  look  at  it,"  echoed  Montrose, 
studying  with  some  compassion  the  delicate  little 
figure  trotting  at  his  side, — "  You  think  your  father 
wants  to  get  the  brain-produce  of  a  whole  family  out 
of  you  ?  Well, — I  believe  he  does  !" 

"  Of  course  he  does  !"  averred  Lionel,  solemnly, — 
"  And  it  is  very  natural,  if  you  think  of  it.  If  you've 
only  got  one  boy,  you  expect  a  good  deal  from  him  !" 

"Too  much  by  half!"  growled  Montrose,  sotto- 
voce, — then  aloud  he  added — "  Well,  laddie,  you 
needn't  fret  yourself, — you  are  learning  quite  fast 
enough,  and  you  know  a  good  deal  more  now  than 
ever  I  did  at  your  age.  I  was  at  school  at  Inverness 


36  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM, 

when  I  was  a  little  chap,  and  passed  nearly  all  my 
time  fighting, — that's  how  I  learned  my  lessons !" 

He  laughed, — a  joyous  ringing  laugh  which  was 
quite  infectious,  and  Lionel  laughed  too.  It  seemed 
so  droll  for  a  boy  to  pass  his  time  in  fighting ! — so 
very  exceptional  and  extraordinary  ! 

"  Why,  Mr.  Montrose" — he  exclaimed — "  what  did 
you  fight  so  much  for  ?" 

"  Oh,  any  excuse  was  good  enough  for  me !" 
returned  Montrose,  gleefully.  "  If  I  thought  a  boy 
had  too  long  a  nose,  I  pulled  it  for  him,  and  then  we 
fought  the  question  out  together.  They  were  just 
grand  times  ! — grand  !" 

"  I  have  never  fought  a  boy" — murmured  Lionel, 
regretfully,  "  I  never  had  any  boy  to  -fight  with  !" 

Montrose  looked  down  at  him,  and  a  sudden 
gravity  clouded  his  previous  mirth. 

"  Listen  to  me,  laddie,"  he  said,  earnestly — "  When 
you  have  a  chance,  ask  your  father  to  send  you  to 
school.  You've  a  tongue  in  your  head, — ask  him, 
— say  it's  the  thing  you're  longing  for, — beg  for  it 
as  though  it  were  your  life.  You're  quite  ready  for 
it ;  you'll  take  a  high  place  at  once  with  what  you 
know,  and  you'll  be  as  happy  as  the  day  is  long. 
You'll  find  plenty  of  boys  to  fight  with, — and  to 
conquer ! — fighting  is  the  rule  of  this  world,  my 
boy,  and  to  those  who  fight  well,  so  is  conquering. 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 


37 


And  it's  a  good  thing  to  begin  practising  the  busi- 
ness early, — practice  makes  perfect.  Tell  your 
father, — and  tell  this  professor  who  is  coming  to 
take  my  place,  that  it  is  your  own  wish  to  go  to  a 
public  school, — Eton,  Harrow,  Winchester, — any  of 
them  can  turn  out  men'' 

Lionel  looked  pained  and  puzzled. 

"Yes,— I  will  ask," — he  said — "But  I'm  sure  I 
shall  be  refused.  Father  will  never  hear  of  it.  The 
boys  in  public  schools  all  go  to  church  on  Sundays, 
don't  they?  Well,  you  know  I  should  never  be 
allowed  to  do  that  /" 

Montrose  made  no  reply,  and  they  walked  on  in 
unbroken  silence  till  they  reached  the  abode  of  Miss 
Clarinda  Cleverly  Payne,  where  on  the  threshold 
stood  a  bright-eyed,  pleasant-faced  active  personage 
in  a  lilac  cotton  gown  and  snow-white  mob-cap  of 
the  fashion  of  half  a  century  ago. 

"  Good-morning,  sir !  Nice  morning !  Good- 
morning,  Master  Lionel !  Well  now,  toe  be  sure,  I 
dew  believe  the  eggs  is  just  laid  for  you  !  I  heerd 
the  hens  a-clucking  the  very  minute  you  came  in 
sight !  Ah  dearie  me  !  if  we  all  did  our  duty  when 
it  was  expected  of  us,  like  my  hens,  the  world 
would  get  on  a  deal  better  than  it  dew !  Walk  in, 
sir ! — walk  in,  Master  Lionel ! — the  table's  spread 
and  everything's  ready,  the  window's  open  too,  for 

4 


38  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

there's  a  sight  o'  honeysuckle  outside  and  it  dew 
smell  sweet,  I  can  assure  you !  Nothing  like  Dev- 
onshire honeysuckle  except  Devonshire  cream ! 
Ah,  and  you'll  find  plenty  o'  that  for  breakfast ! 
And  I'm  sure  this  little  gentleman's  sorry  his  kind 
master's  going  away,  eh  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  am  very  sorry,  ma'am,"  said  Lionel,  ear- 
nestly, taking  off  his  little  cap  politely  as  he  looked 
up  at  the  worthy  Clarinda's  sunbrowned,  honest 
countenance — "  But  it  isn't  much  use  being  sorry,  is 
it  ?  He  must  go,  and  I  must  stay, — and  if  I  were  to 
fret  for  a  whole  year  about  it,  it  wouldn't  make  any 
difference,  would  it  ?" 

"  No,  that  it  wouldn't," — returned  Miss  Payne, 
staring  hard  into  the  pathetic  young  eyes  that  so 
wistfully  regarded  her, — "  But  you  see  some  of  us 
can't  take  things  so  sensibly  as  you  do,  my  dear ! — 
we're  not  all  so  clever !" 

"  Clever !"  echoed  Lionel,  with  an  accent  of  such 
bitterness  as  might  have  befitted  a  cynic  of  many 
years'  worldly  experience — "  I  am  not  clever.  I  am 
only  crammed." 

"  Lord  bless  us !"  exclaimed  Clarinda,  gazing 
helplessly  about  her,  — "  What  does  the  child 
mean  ?" 

"He  means  just  what  he  says," — answered  Mon- 
trose  with  a  slight,  rather  sad  smile, — "  If  you 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 


39 


had  to  learn  all  the  things  Lionel  is   supposed  to 

know " 

"  Larn  ?"  interrupted  Miss  Clarinda,  with  a  sharp 
sniff — "  Thank  the  Lord  I  ain't  had  no  larnin1 !  I 
know  how  to  do  my  work  and  live  honestly  without 
runnin'  into  debt, — and  that's  enough  for  me.  To 
see  the  young  gels  nowadays  with  their  books  an' 
their  penny  papers,  all  a-gabblin'  of  a  parcel  o'  rub- 
bish as  doesn't  consarn  'em, — it  dew  drive  me  wild, 
I  can  tell  you !  My  niece  Susie  got  one  o'  them 
there  cheap  novels  one  day,  and  down  she  sat, 
a-readin'  an'  a-readin',  an'  she  let  the  cream  boil 
and  spoilt  it,  an'  later  on  in  the  day,  she  slipt  and  fell 
on  the  doorstep  with  a  dozen  new-laid  eggs  in  her 
apron  and  broke  eight  o'  them, — then  in  a  week  or 
two  she  took  to  doin'  her  hair  in  all  sorts  o'  queer 
towzley  ways,  and  pinched  her  waist  in,  till  she 
couldn't  fancy  her  dinner  and  her  nose  got  as  red  as 
a  carrot.  I  said  nothing, — for  the  more  you  say  to 
they  young  things  the  worse  they  get, — but  at  last  I 
got  hold  o'  the  book  that  had  done  the  mischief  and 
took  to  readin'  it  myself.  Lor! — I  laughed  till  I 
nearly  split ! — a  parcel  o'  nonsense  all  about  a  fool 
of  a  country  wench  as  couldn't  do  nothing  but  make 
butter,  and  yet  she  married  a  lord  an'  was  took  to 
Court  with  di'monds  an'  fal-lals ! — such  a  muck  o' 
lies  was  printed  in  that  there  book  as  was  enough  to 


40  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

bring  the  judgment  of  the  Almighty  on  the  jackass 
as  wrote  it !  I  went  to  my  niece  ancl  I  sez  to  her, 
sez  I — '  Susie,  my  gel,  you're  a  decent,  strong,  well- 
favoured  sort  o'  lass,  taken  just  as  God  made  ye, 
and  if  you  behave  yourself,  you  may  likely  marry 
an  honest  farmer  lad  in  time, — but  if  ye  get  such  no- 
tions o'  lords  and  ladies  as  are  in  this  silly  lyin' 
book,  an'  go  doin'  o'  your  hair  like  crazy  Jane, 
there's  not  a  man  in  Combmartin  as  won't  despise 
ye.  An'  ye  11  go  to  the  bad,  my  gel,  as  sure  as  a 
die !'  She  was  a  decent  lass,  Susie,  an'  she  knew  I 
meant  well  by  her,  so  she  just  dropped  the  book 
down  our  old  dry  well  in  the  back  yard,  seventy  feet 
deep,  and  took  to  the  cream  agin !  She's  married 
well  now  and  lives  over  at  Woolacombe,  very  com- 
fortably off  She's  got  a  good  husband,  a  poultry- 
farm  and  three  babies,  an'  she's  no  time  for  novel- 
readin'  now,  thanks  to  the  Lord !" 

This  narrative,  delivered  volubly  with  much  ora- 
torical gesture  and  scarcely  any  pauses,  left  Miss 
Clarinda  well-nigh  out  of  breath,  and  as  she  and 
her  visitors  were  now  in  the  one  "  best  parlour"  of 
the  cottage,  she  ceased  talking,  and  bustled  about  to 
get  them  their  breakfast.  Montrose  leaned  out  of 
the  open  lattice-window  where  the  "  sight  o'  honey- 
suckle" hung  in  fragrant  garlands,  and  inhaled  the 
delicious  perfume  with  a  deep  breath  of  delight. 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  41 

"  It's  a  bonnie  place,  this  Devonshire," — he  said, 
half  to  himself  and  half  to  Lionel — "  But  it's  not  so 
bonnie  as  Scotland." 

Lionel  had  sat  down  in  the  window-nook  with 
rather  a  weary  air,  the  Homer  volume  still  clasped 
in  his  hands. 

"  Are  you  going  to  Scotland  soon  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Yes.  I  shall  go  straight  home  there  for  a  few 
days  and  see  my  mother."  Here  the  young  man 
turned  and  surveyed  his  small  pupil  with  involun- 
tary tenderness.  "  I  wish  I  could  take  you  with 
me,"  he  added,  softly — "  My  mother  would  love 
you,  I  know." 

Lionel  was  mute.  He  was  thinking  to  himself 
how  strange  it  would  seem  to  be  loved  by  Mr. 
Montrose's  mother,  as  he  was  not  loved  by  his  own. 
At  that  moment,  Clarinda  Cleverly  Payne  brought 
in  the  breakfast  in  her  usual  smart,  bustling  way ; — 
excellent  tea,  new  milk,  eggs,  honey,  cream,  jam, 
home-made  bread,  and  scones  smoking  hot,  were 
all  set  forth  in  tempting  profusion,  and  to  crown  the 
feast,  an  antique  china  basket  filled  with  the  rosiest 
apples  and  juiciest  pears,  was  placed  in  the  centre 
of  the  table.  William  Montrose,  B.A.,  and  his  little 
friend  sat  down  to  their  good  cheer,  each  with  very 
different  feelings, — "  oor  Willie"  with  a  hearty  and 
appreciative  appetite, — the  boy  with  only  a  faint 


42  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

sense  of  hunger,  which  was  over-weighted  by 
mental  fatigue  and  consequent  physical  indifference. 
However,  he  tried  to  eat  well  to  please  the  kindly 
companion  from  whom  he  was  so  soon  to  be  parted, 
— and  it  was  not  till  he  had  quite  finished,  that  Mon- 
trose,  pushing  aside  his  cup  and  plate,  addressed  the 
following  remarks  to  his  late  pupil, — 

"  Look  here,  Lionel,"  he  said,  "  I  don't  want  you 
to  forget  me.  If  ever  you  should  take  it  into  your 
head  to  run  away," — here  a  deep  blush  crimsoned 
Lionel's  face,  for  was  he  not  going  to  run  away  that 
very  day? — "or — or  anything  of  that  sort,  just 
write  and  tell  me  all  about  it  first.  A  letter  will 
always  find  me  at  my  mother's  house,  The  Nest, 
Kilmun.  I  don't,  of  course,  wish  to  persuade  you 
to  run  away" — (he  looked  as  if  he  did,  though !) 
"because  that  would  be  a  very  desperate  thing  to 
do, — still,  if  you  feel  you  can't  hold  up  under  your 
lessons,  or  that  Professor  Cadman-Gore  is  too  much 
for  you,  why,  rather  than  break  down  altogether, 
you'd  better  show  a  clean  pair  of  heels.  I  expect 
I'm  giving  you  advice  which  a  good  many  people 
would  think  very  wrong  on  my  part, — all  the  same, 
boys  do  run  away  at  times, — it  has  been  done !" 
Here  his  merry  blue  eyes  twinkled.  "  And  if  you 
have  any  more  of  that  giddiness  you  complained 
of  the  other  day, — or  if  you  go  off  in  a  dead 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 


43 


faint  as  you  did  last  week, — you  really  mustn't 
conceal  these  sensations  any  longer, — you  must 
tell  your  father  and  let  him  take  you  to  see  a 
doctor." 

Lionel  listened  with  an  air  of  rather  wearied 
patience. 

"  What's  the  good  of  it !"  he  sighed—"  I'm  not 
ill,  you  know.  Besides,  I've  had  the  doctor  before, 
and  he  said  there  was  nothing  the  matter  with  me. 
Doctors  don't  seem  to  be  very  clever, — my  mother 
was  ill  two  years  ago,  and  they  couldn't  cure  her. 
When  they  gave  her  up  and  left  her  alone,  she 
got  well.  Things  always  appear  to  go  that  way, 
— the  more  you  do,  the  worse  you  get." 

Montrose  was  quite  accustomed  to  such  a  hope- 
less tone  of  reasoning  from  the  boy, — yet  somehow, 
on  this  bright  summer  morning,  when  he,  in  the 
full  enjoyment  of  health  and  liberty,  was  going 
home  to  those  who  loved  him,  the  absolute  loneli- 
ness of  this  child's  life  and  his  pathetic  resignation 
to  it,  smote  him  with  a  keener  sense  of  pain  than 
usual. 

"And  as  for  running  away" — continued  Lionel, 
flushing  as  he  spoke — "  I  might  do  that  perhaps  for 
a  few  hours,  .  .  .  but  if  I  tried  to  run  away  for  good 
and  go  for  a  sailor,  which  is  what  I  should  like,  I 
should  only  be  brought  back, — you  know  I  should. 


44  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

And  if  I  wrote  to  you  about  it,  I  should  get  you 
into  dreadful  trouble.  You  don't  seem  to  think  of 
all  that,  Mr.  Montrose,  but  /think  of  it." 

"You  think  too  much,  altogether," — said  Mon- 
trose, almost  crossly, — it  vexed  him  to  realise  that 
this  boy  of  barely  eleven  years  was  actually  older 
and  more  reflective  in  mind  than  himself,  a  man  of 
seven -an  d-twenty  ! — "  You  are  always  thinking !" 

"  Yes" — agreed  Lionel,  gravely — "  But  then  there's 
so  much  to  think  about  in  this  world,  isn't  there  ?" 

To  this  Montrose  volunteered  no  answer.  He  sat 
gazing  at  the  dish  of  rosy  apples  in  front  of  him 
with  a  brooding  frown, — and  presently  Lionel  laid 
one  little  cold  trembling  hand  on  his  arm. 

"  But  I  shall  never  forget  you, — Willie !"  he  said, 
pausing  before  the  name — "  you  know  you  said  I 
might  call  you  Willie  sometimes.  You  have  been 
very  good  to  me, — you  are  the  youngest  tutor  I 
have  ever  had — and  the  kindest; — and  though  I 
can't  keep  all  the  lessons  in  my  head,  I  can  keep  the 
kindness.  I  can  indeed  !" 

He  looked  so  small  and  fragile  as  he  spoke,  his 
sensitive  little  face  a-quiver  with  emotion,  and  his 
soft  eyes  full  of  wistful  affection  and  appeal,  that 
Montrose  was  much  inclined  to  give  him  a  hearty 
kiss,  just  as  he  would  have  kissed  a  pretty  baby. 
But  he  remembered  in  time  all  the  dry  morsels  of 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  45 

so-called  wisdom  that  had  been  packed  into  that 
little  curly  head, — all  the  profound  meditations  of 
dead-and-gone  philosophers  that  were  stored  in  the 
recesses  of  that  young  mind, — and  he  reflected,  with 
an  odd  sense  of  humorous  pity,  that  it  would  never 
do  to  kiss  such  a  learned  little  man.  So  he  gave 
him  a  couple  of  pleasant  pats  on  the  shoulder  in- 
stead, and  answered — "  All  right,  laddie !  I  know  ! 
Only  just  think  now  and  again  of  what  I've  said  to 
you,  and  when  you're  getting  puzzled  and  dazed-like 
over  your  books,  go  into  the  fresh  air  and  never 
mind  the  lessons, — and  if  you  get  a  thrashing  for  it, 
well, — all  I  can  say  is,  a  thrashing  is  better  than  a 
sickness.  Health's  the  grandest  thing  going, — a  far 
sight  better  than  wealth."  At  that  moment  the 
"  too-too-tootle"  of  the  coach-horn  came  ringing 
towards  them  in  a  gay  sonorous  echo,  and  he  started 
up.  "  By  Jove !  I  must  be  off!  Miss  Payne ! 
Clarinda !" 

"  Now,  if  it  isn't  like  your  impudence,  Mr.  Mont- 
rose,"  said  Miss  Payne,  appearing  at  the  doorway 
with  her  strong  bare  arms  dusty  with  the  flour  of  the 
scones  she  had  just  been  making, — "to  be  calling 
me  Clarinda !  Upon  my  word  I  don't  know  what 
the  gentlemen  are  coming  to," — heres  he  giggled  and 
simpered  in  spite  of  her  fifty-two  years,  as  Montrose, 
nothing  daunted,  dropped  more  than  the  money  due 


46  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

for  the  breakfast  into  her  hand,  and  audaciously 
kissed  her  on  the  cheek, — (he  had  no  scruples  about 
kissing  her,  oh,  no !  not  at  all ! — though  he  had 
about  kissing  Lionel, — )  "  Really  they  seem  to  be 
quite  reckless  nowadays, — it  was  very  different,  I 
dew  assure  you,  when  I  was  a  gel " 

"  Oh,  no,  it  wasn't,  Clarinda,  I  dew  assure  you  !" 
laughed  Montrose,  with  a  playful  mimicking  of  her 
voice  and  manner — "  It  was  just  the  same,  and 
always  will  be  the  same  to  the  crack  of  doom ! 
Men  will  always  be  devils, — and  women,  angels ! 
Good-bye,  Clarinda !" 

"  Good-bye,  sir !  A  pleasant  journey  to  you  !" 
and  Miss  Payne  bobbed  up  and  down  under  her 
rose-covered  porch,  after  precisely  the  same  fashion 
in  which  the  greatest  ladies  of  the  land  make  their 
"  dip"  salutation  to  Royalty — "  Hope  to  see  you 
here  again  some  day,  sir !" 

"  I  hope  so,  too  !"  he  answered,  cheerily,  waving 
one  hand,  while  he  grasped  his  portmanteau  with 
the  other  and  walked  with  a  swinging  stride  down 
the  village  street,  followed  by  Lionel,  to  the  "  Pack 
o'  Cards"  inn,  where  the  coach  had  just  arrived.  It 
was  a  picturesque  "  turn-out,"  with  its  four  strong, 
sleek  horses,  its  passengers,  all  rendered  more  or 
less  bright-faced  by  the  freshness  of  the  morning 
air,  its  white-hatted  coachman,  and  its  jolly  guard, 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  47 

who  blew  the  horn  more  for  the  pleasure  of  blow- 
ing it  than  anything  else, — and  Lionel  surveyed  it  in 
a  kind  of  sober  rapture. 

"  You  are  glad  to  go,  Mr.  Montrose" — he  said — 
"  you  must  be  glad  to  go  !" 

"  Yes,  I  am  glad  in  one  way" — replied  Montrose, 
"  But  I'm  sorry  in  another.  I'm  sorry  to  le'ave  you, 
laddie, — I  should  like  to  be  living  here  for  awhile 
just  to  keep  you  out  of  harm's  way." 

"  Would  you  ?"  Lionel  looked  at  him  sur- 
prisedly.  "  But  I  am  never  in  the  way  of  harm, — 
nothing  ever  happens  to  me  of  any  particular  sort, 
you  know.  One  day  is  just  like  another." 

"  Well,  good-bye !"  and  Montrose,  having  given 
over  his  portmanteau  to  the  coach-guard,  laid  both 
his  hands  on  the  boy's  fragile  shoulders — "  When 
you  get  home,  tell  your  father  it  was  I  who  took 
you  out  with  me  this  morning  to  see  me  off,  and 
that  if  he  wants  to  question  me  about  it,  he  knows 
where  a  letter  will  find  me.  /  take  all  the  blame, 
remember !  Good-bye !  my  dear  wee  laddie ! — and 
— and — God  bless  you !" 

Lionel's  lip  quivered  and  the  smile  he  managed 
to  force  was  very  suggestive  of  tears. 

"  Good-bye !"  he  said,  faintly. 

"  Too-too-too-tootle-too !"  carolled  the  guard  on 
his  shining  horn, — and  Montrose  climbed  nimbly 


48  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

up  to  his  place  on  the  top  of  the  coach.  The  red- 
faced  driver  bent  a  severe  eye  on  certain  village 
children  that  were  standing  about  agape  with  ad- 
miration at  himself  and  his  equipage.  "  Now  then  ! 
Out  of  the  way,  youngsters !"  There  followed  a 
general  scrimmage,  and  the  horses  started.  "  Too- 
too-tootle-too  !"  Up  the  village  street  they  galloped 
merrily  in  the  cheerful  sunlight,  their  manes  blown 
back  by  the  dancing  breeze. 

"  Good-bye !  Good-bye !"  shouted  Montrose  once 
more,  waving  his  straw  hat  energetically  to  the 
solitary  small  figure  left  standing  in  the  road. 

But  Lionel's  voice  could  not  now  "  carry"  far 
enough  to  echo  the  farewell,  so  he  only  lifted  his 
little  red  cap  once  in  response,  the  parting  smile 
soon  fading  from  his  young  face,  and  the  worn 
pucker  on  his  brow  deepening  in  intensity.  He 
stood  motionless, — watching  till  the  last  glimpse  of 
the  coach  had  vanished, — then  he  started,  as  it  were 
from  a  waking  dream,  and  found  that  he  still  held 
the  Homer  volume, — Montrose  had  forgotten  it. 
Some  of  the  village  children  were  standing  apart, 
staring  at  him,  and  he  heard  them  saying  some- 
thing about  the  "  little  gemmun  livin'  up  at  the  big 
'ouse."  He  looked  at  them  in  his  turn ; — there 
were  two  nice  red-cheeked  boys  with  red-cheeked 
apples  in  their  hands, — their  faces  were  almost  the 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 


49 


counterpart  of  the  apples  in  roundness  and  shininess. 
He  would  have  liked  to  talk  to  them,  but  he  felt 
instinctively  that  if  he  made  any  advances  in  this 
direction,  they  would  probably  be  either  timid  or 
resentful, — so  he  dismissed  the  idea  from  his  mind, 
and  went  on  his  own  solitary  way.  He  was  not 
going  home, — no, — he  was  quite  resolved  to  have  a 
real  holiday  all  to  himself,  before  his  new  teacher 
arrived.  And  as  he  knew  the  ancient  church  of 
Combmartin  was  considered  one  of  the  chief  objects 
of  interest  in  the  neighbourhood,  and  as,  owing  to  his 
father's  "  system"  of  education  and  ideas  concerning 
religion  or  rather  non-religion,  he  had  been  forbidden 
to  visit  it,  he  very  naturally  decided  to  go  thither. 
And  the  tears  he  had  resolutely  kept  back  as  long 
as  Willie  Montrose  had  been  with  him,  now  filled 
his  eyes  and  dropped  slowly,  one  by  one,  as  he 
thought  sorrowfully  that  now  there  would  be  no 
more  pleasant  tossings  in  an  open  boat  on  the  sea, 
— no  more  excursions  into  the  woods  for  "  botany 
lessons"  which  had  served  as  an  excuse  for  many 
do-nothing  but  health-giving  rambles,  and  the  read- 
ing or  reciting  of  stirring  ballads  such  as  "The 
Battle  of  the  Baltic,"  and  "  Henry  of  Navarre,"  un- 
der the  refreshing  shade  of  the  beautiful  green  trees, 
— nothing  of  all  this  in  future, — nothing  to  look 
forward  to  but  the  dreaded  society  of  Professor 
c  d  5 


5° 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 


Cadman-Gore.  Professor  Cadman-Gore  had  a  terri- 
ble reputation  for  learning, — all  the  world  was  as 
one  mighty  jackass,  viewed  in  the  light  of  his  pro- 
digious and  portentous  intellect, — and  the  young 
boy's  heart  ached  under  the  oppression  of  his 
thoughts  as  he  walked,  with  the  lagging  step  and 
bent  head  of  an  old  man,  towards  the  wooden 
churchyard  gate,  lifted  the  latch  softly  and  went 
in,  Homer  in  hand,  to  stroll  about  and  meditate, 
Hamlet-wise,  among  the  graves  of  the  forgotten 
dead. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

HUSHING  his  little  footsteps  instinctively  as  he 
went  up  the  moss  grown  path  between  the  grassy 
graves  that  rose  in  suggestive  hillocks  on  either  side 
of  him,  he  paused  presently  in  front  of  an  ancient 
tombstone  standing  aslant,  on  the  top  of  which  sat  a 
robin-redbreast  contentedly  twittering,  and  now  and 
then  calling  "  Sweet !"  to  its  unseen  mate.  It  was  a 
fearless  bird,  and  made  no  movement  to  fly  away  as 
Lionel  approached.  Just  beneath  its  brown  wings 
and  scarlet  bosom  the  grey  headstone  had  blossomed 
into  green, — tiny  ferns  and  tufts  of  moss  had  man- 
aged to  find  root-hold  there,  and  spread  themselves 
out  in  pretty  sprays  of  delicate  foliage  over  the  worn 
and  blackened  epitaph  below, — 

HEERE   LYETH 

YE   EARTHLIE    BODIE    OF   SIMON   YEDDIE 
Saddler  in  Combmartin 

WHO    DYED 

FULLE   OF  JOYE   AND   HOPE  TO   SEE 
HIS    DEARE   MASTER 

CHRISTE 

ON   THE    I/TH    DAYE   OF   JUNE    1671.        AGED    IO2. 
"  And  He  lodged  in  ye  House  of  one  Simon,  a   Tanner" 

5' 


52  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

With  much  difficulty  Lionel  made  out  this  quaint 
inscription,  standing,  as  he  did,  at  some  little  distance 
off,  in  order  not  to  frighten  away  the  robin.  He  had 
to  spell  each  word  over  carefully  before  he  could 
understand  it,  and  even  when  he  had  finally  got  it 
clear,  it  was  still  somewhat  incomprehensible  to  his 
mind.  And  while  he  stood  thinking  about  it,  and 
wondering  at  the  oddly  chosen  text  which  completed 
it,  the  robin-redbreast  suddenly  flew  away  with  an 
alarmed  chirp,  and  a  man's  head,  covered  with  a  lux- 
uriant crop  of  roughly  curling  white  hair,  rose,  as  it 
seemed,  out  of  the  very  ground,  goblin-wise,  and 
looked  at  him  inquisitively.  Startled,  yet  by  no 
means  afraid,  Lionel  stepped  back  a  few  paces. 

"  Hulloa !"  said  the  head.  "  Doan't  be  skeer'd, 
little  zur !  I  be  only  a-diggin'  fur  Mother  Twiley." 

The  accent  in  which  these  words  were  spoken  was 
extremely  gentle,  even  musical,  despite  its  provincial 
intonation, — and  Lionel's  momentary  misgiving  was 
instantly  dispelled.  Full  of  curiosity  he  advanced 
and  discovered  the  speaker  to  be  a  big,  broad-shoul- 
dered and  exceedingly  handsome  man,  the  bulk  of 
whose  figure  was  partially  hidden  in  a  dark,  squarely- 
cut  pit  of  earth,  which  the  boy's  instinct  told  him 
was  a  grave. 

"  I'm  not  scared  at  all,  thank  you," — he  said,  lift- 
ing his  little  red  cap  with  the  politeness  which  was 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  53 

habitual  to  him — "  It  was  only  because  your  head 
came  up  so  suddenly  that  I  started  ;  I  did  not  know 
anybody  was  here  at  all  except  the  robin  that 
flew  away  just  now.  What  a  big  hole  you  are 
making!" 

"  Aye !"  And  the  man  smiled,  his  clear  blue  eyes 
sparkling  with  a  cheery  light  as  he  turned  over  and 
broke  a  black  clod  of  earth  with  his  spade, — 
"  Mother  Twiley  allus  liked  plenty  o'  room  !  Lor' 
bless  'er !  When  she  was  at  her  best,  she  'minded 
me  of  a  haystack, — a  comfortable,  soft  sort  o'  hay- 
stack for  the  chillern  to  play  an'  jump  about  on, — 
an'  there  was  allus  chillern  round  her  for  the  matter 
o'  that.  Well !  Now  she's  gone  there's  not  a  body 
as  has  got  a  word  agin  her,  an'  that's  more  than  can 
be  said  for  either  kings  or  queens." 

"  Is  she  dead  ?"  asked  Lionel,  softly. 

"  Why,  yes,  s'fur  as  this  world's  consarned,  she's 
dead,"  was  the  reply — "But,  Lord!  what's  this 
world !  Nuthin' !  Just  a  breath,  an'  we're  done 
wi't.  It's  the  next  world  we've  got  to  look  to,  little 
zur, — the  next  world  is  what  we  should  all  be  a- 
workin'  fur  day  an'  night. 

" '  There's  a  glory  o'  the  moon 

An'  a  glory  o'  the  stars, 
But  the  glory  o'  the  angels  shines 
Beyond  our  prison  bars !'  " 
5* 


54  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

He  sang  this  verse  melodiously  in  a  rich  sweet 
baritone,  digging  the  while  and  patting  the  sides  of 
the  grave  smooth  as  he  worked. 

Lionel  sat  down  on  one  of  the  grassy  mounds 
and  stared  at  him  thoughtfully. 

"  How  can  you  believe  all  that  nonsense  ?"  he 
asked,  with  reproachful  solemnity — "  Such  a  big 
man  as  you  are,  too  !" 

The  grave-digger  stopped  abruptly  in  his  toil,  and 
turning  round,  surveyed  the  little  lad  with  undis- 
guised astonishment. 

"  How  can  I  believe  all  that  nonsense  ?"  he  re- 
peated at  last,  slowly, — "  Nonsense  ?  Is  a  wee 
mousie  like  you  a-talkin'  o'  the  blessed  sure  an' 
certain  hope  o'  heaven  as  nonsense  ?  God  ha'  mercy 
on  ye,  ye  poor  little  thing !  Who  has  had  the 
bringin'  of  ye  up,  anyway  ?" 

Lionel  flushed  deeply  and  his  eyes  smarted  with 
repressed  tears.  He  was  very  lonely ;  and  he  wanted 
to  talk  to  this  cheery-looking  man  who  had  such  a 
soft  musical  voice  and  such  a  kindly  smile,  but  now 
he  feared  he  had  offended  him. 

"  My  name  is  Lionel, — -Lionel  Valliscourt,"  he 
said,  in  low,  rather  tremulous  tones, — "  I  am  the 
only  son  of  Mr.  Valliscourt  who  has  taken  the  big 
house  over  there  for  the  summer, — that  one, — you 
can  just  see  the  chimneys  through  the  trees" — and 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  55 

he  indicated  the  direction  by  a  little  wave  of  his 
hand — "  And  I  have  always  had  very  clever  men 
for  tutors  ever  since  I  was  six  years  old, — I  shall  be 
eleven  next  birthday, — and  they  have  taught  me  lots 
of  things.  And  why  I  said  the  next  world  was 
nonsense  was  because  I  have  always  been  told  so. 
One  would  be  very  glad,  of  course,  if  it  were  true, 
but  then,  it  isn't  true.  It  is  only  an  idea, — a  sort  of 
legend.  My  father  says  nobody  with  any  sense  now- 
adays believes  it.  Scientific  books  prove  to  you, 
you  know,  that  when  you  go  into  a  grave  like  that" 
and  he  pointed  to  the  hole  in  which  the  white-haired 
sexton  stood,  listening  and  inwardly  marvelling, — 
"you  are  quite  dead  for  ever, — you  never  see  the 
sun  any  more,  or  hear  the  birds  sing,  and  you  never 
find  out  why  you  were  made  at  all,  which  I  think  is 
very  curious,  and  very  cruel ; — and  you  are  eaten 
up  by  the  worms.  Now  it  surely  is  nonsense,  isn't 
it,  to  think  you  can  come  to  life  again  after  you  are 
eaten  by  the  worms  ? — and  that  is  what  I  meant,  when 
I  asked  how  you  could  believe  such  a  thing.  I  hope 
you  will  excuse  me, — I  didn't  wish  to  offend  you." 

The  grave-digger  still  stood  silent.  His  fine  reso- 
lute features  expressed  various  emotions, — wonder, 
pain,  pity,  and  something  of  indignation, — then,  all 
at  once  these  flitting  shadows  of  thought  melted 
into  a  sunny  smile  of  tenderness. 


56  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

"  Offend  me  ?  No  indeed  ! — ye  couldn't  do  that, 
my  little  zur,  if  ye  tried, — ye're  too  much  of  a  babby. 
An'  so  ye're  Mr.  Valliscourt's  son,  eh  ? — well,  I'm 
Reuben  Dale,  the  verger  o'  th'  church  here,  an' 
sexton,  an'  road-mender,  an'  carpenter,  an'  anything 
else  wotsoever  my  hand  finds  to  do,  I  does  it  with 
my  might,  purvided  it  harrums  nobody  an'  gits  me  a 
livin'.  Now  ye  see  these  arms  o'  mine" — and  he 
raised  one  of  the  brown  muscular  limbs  alluded  to, 
— "  They  ha'  served  me  well, — they  ha'  earned  bread 
an'  clothing,  an'  kep'  wife  an'  child,  an'  please  God 
they'll  serve  me  yet  many  a  long  day,  an'  I'm  grateful 
to  have  'em  for  use  an'  hard  labour,-r—but  I  know  the 
time  '11  come  when  they  '11  be  laid  down  in  a  grave 
like  this  'ere,  stark  an'  stiff  an'  decayin'  away  to  the 
bone,  a-makin'  soil  fur  vi'lets  an'  daises  to  grow  over 
me.  But  what  o'  that?  I'll  not  be  a-wantin'  of 'em 
then, — no  more  than  I'm  a-wantin'  now  the  long 
clothes  I  wore  when  our  passon  baptised  me  at  t'  old 
font  yonder.  I,  who  am,  at  present,  owner  o'  these 
arms,  will  be  zumwheres  else, — livin'  an'  thinkin',  an' 
please  the  Lord,  workin'  too,  for  work's  divine 
an'  wholesome, — I'll  'ave  better  limbs  mebbe,  an' 
stronger, — but  wotsoever  body  I  get  into  ye  may 
depend  on't,  little  zur,  it  '11  be  as  right  an'  fittin'  for 
the  ways  o'  the  next  world  as  the  body  I've  got 
now  is  right  an'  fittin'  fur  this  one.  An'  my  soul 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  57 

will  be  the  same  as  keeps  me  up  at  this  moment, 
bad  or  good, — onny  I  pray  it  may  get  a  bit  wiser 
an'  better,  an'  not  go  down  like."  He  raised  his 
clear  blue  eyes  to  the  bright  expanse  above  him,  and 
murmured  half  inaudibly, — "  Let  him  that  thinketh  he 
standeth,  take  heed  lest  he  fall" — and  seemed  for  a 
moment  lost  in  meditation. 

"  Please,  Mr. — Mr.  Dale,  what  do  you  mean  by 
your  soul  ?"  asked  Lionel,  gravely. 

Reuben  Dale  brought  his  rapt  gaze  down  from  the 
shining  sky  to  the  quaint  and  solemn  little  figure 
before  him. 

"  What  do  I  mean,  my  dear  ?"  he  echoed,  with  a 
note  of  compassion  vibrating  in  his  rich  voice — "  I 
mean  the  onny  livin'  part  o'  me, — the  '  vital  spark  o' 
heavenly  flame '  in  all  of  us  that  our  dear  Lord  died 
to  save.  That's  what  I  mean, — an'  that's  what  you'll 
mean  too,  ye  poor  pale  little  chap,  when  ye'se 
growed  up  and  begins  to  unnerstand  all  the  marvels 
o'  God's  goodness  to  us  ungrateful  sinners.  Onny 
to  think  o'  the  blessed  sunshine  should  be  enough 
fur  the  givin*  o'  thanks, — but  Lord  pity  us ! — we're 
sore  forgetful  of  all  our  daily  mercies !" 

"  And — your  friend, — Mother  Twiley," — hinted 
Lionel,  almost  deferentially, — "  Had  she  what  you 
call  a  soul  ?" 

"  Aye,  that  she  had ! — an'  a  great  one,  an'  a  true 


58  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

one,  an'  an  angel  one, — fur  all  that  she  wor  old,  an' 
not  so  well-looking  in  her  body  as  she  must  ha'  been 
in  her  mind," — replied  the  sexton — "  But  ye  may  be 
sure  God  found  her  right  beautiful  in  His  sight  when 
He  tuk  her  to  Himself  t'other  evening  just  as  the 
stars  were  risin.' " 

"  But  how  do  you  know," — persisted  Lionel,  who 
was  getting  deeply,  almost  painfully  interested  in  the 
conversation — "  Do  tell  me,  please  ! — how  do  you 
know  she  had  a  soul  ?" 

"  My  dear,  when  you  see  a  very  poor  old  woman, 
with  nothing  of  world's  comfort  or  world's  goods 
about  her,  bearing  a  humble  an'  hard  lot  in  peace  an' 
contentment,  wi'  a  cheerful  face  an'  bright  eye,  a 
smile  for  every  one,  a  heart  fur  the  childer,  forgive- 
ness for  the  wrongdoers,  an'  charity  for  all,  who  can 
look  back  on  eighty  years  o'  life  with  a  '  Praise  God' 
for  every  breath  of  it,  you  may  be  sure  that  some- 
thin'  better  an'  higher  than  the  mere  poor,  worn, 
tired  body  o'  her,  keeps  'er  firm  to  'er  work  an'  true 
to  her  friends, — an'  so  'twas  with  Mother  Twiley.  S' 
fur  as  her  body  went  'twas  just  a  trouble  to  her, — 
twitched  wi'  rheumatiz,  an'  difficult  to  manage  in  the 
matter  o'  mere  breathing, — but  her  soul  was  straight 
enough  an'  strong  enough.  Lord, — 'ere  in  Comb- 
martin  we  knew  her  soul  so  well  that  we  forgot  all 
about  the  poor  old  case  it  lived  in, — I  hardly  think 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  59 

we  saw  it !  Our  bodies  are  weak,  bothersome  things, 
my  dear, — an'  without  a  soul  to  help  'em  along  we 
should  never  keep  'em  going." 

"  I  believe  that," — said  Lionel,  heaving  a  little 
sigh, — "  I  can't  help  believing  it  though  it's  not  what 
I've  been  taught.  My  body  is  weak ;  it  aches  all 
over  often.  Still,  I  think,  Mr.  Dale,  that  souls,  such 
as  you  talk  about,  must  be  exceptions,  you  know. 
Like  blue  eyes,  for  instance, — everybody  hasn't 
got  blue  eyes  ;  well,  perhaps  everybody  hasn't  got  a 
soul.  You  see  that  might  be  how  it  is.  My  father 
would  be  very  angry  if  you  told  him  he  had  a  soul. 
And  I  know  he  will  never  let  me  have  one,  not  even 
if  I  could  grow  it  somehow." 

Reuben  Dale  was  speechless.  He  gazed  at  the 
boy's  small  sad  face  in  wonder  too  great  for  words. 
Himself  a  simple-hearted  God-fearing  man  who  had 
lived  all  his  life  at  Combmartin,  working  hard  for  his 
daily  bread,  and  entirely  contented  with  his  humble 
lot,  he  had  never  heard  of  the  feverish  and  foolish 
discussions  held  in  over-populated  cities,  where  de- 
luded men  and  women  shut  out  God  from  their  con- 
sciences as  they  shut  out  the  blue  sky  by  the  toppling 
height  and  close  crowding  together  of  their  hideous 
houses, — where  the  very  press  teaches  blasphemy 
and  atheism,  and  permits  to  pass  into  the  hands  of 
the  public,  with  praise  and  recommendation,  such 


60  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

lewd  books  as  might  move  even  a  Rabelais  to  sick 
abhorrence.  And  he  certainly  had  never  deemed  it 
possible  that  any  form  of  government  could  exist  in 
the  world,  which  favoured  the  bringing  up  and  edu- 
cation of  children  without  religion.  He  had  heard 
of  France,- — but  he  was  not  aware  that  it  had  es- 
chewed religion  from  its  public  schools  and  was  rap- 
idly becoming  a  mere  forcing-bed  for  the  production 
of  child-thieves,  child-murderers,  and  child-parricides. 
He  believed  in  England  as  he  believed  in  God,  with 
that  complete  and  glorious  faith  in  mother-country 
which  makes  the  nation  great, — and  it  would  have 
been  a  shock  to  his  steadfast,  deeply  religious  nature, 
had  he  been  told  that  even  this  beloved  England  of 
ours,  misled  by  those  who  should  have  been  her  best 
guardians,  was  accepting  lessons  from  France  in 
open  atheism,  "  Simianism  "  and  general  "  free  "  mo- 
rality. Thus,  the  child  that  sat  before  him  was  a 
kind  of  unnatural  prodigy  to  his  sight, — the  little 
pale  face  framed  in  an  aureole  of  fair  curling  hair 
might  have  aptly  fitted  an  angel, — but  the  elderly 
manner,  the  methodical,  precise  fashion  in  which 
this  young  thing  spoke  seemed  to  honest  Reuben 
"  uncanny,"  and  he  ruffled  his  beard  with  one  hand 
in  dire  perplexity,  quite  taken  aback,  and  at  a  loss 
how  to  continue  the  conversation.  For  how  could 
he  give  any  instruction  in  the  art  of  "  growing  "  a 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  6 1 

soul  ?  Happily,  however,  a  diversion  here  occurred 
in  the  sudden  almost  noiseless  approach  of  a  tiny 
girl,  with  the  prettiest  little  face  imaginable,  that 
peered  out  like  a  pink  rose  from  under  a  white 
"  poke"  sun-bonnet  and  a  tangle  of  nut-brown  curls, 
— a  little  girl  who  appeared  to  Lionel's  eyes  like  a 
vision  of  Helen  of  Troy  in  miniature,  so  lovely  and 
dainty  was  her  aspect.  He  had  never  been  allowed 
to  read  any  fairy-tales,  so  he  could  not  liken  her  to  a 
fairy,  which  would  have  been  more  natural, — but  he 
had  done  a  lot  of  heavy  translation-work  in  Homer, 
and  he  knew  that  all  the  heroes  in  the  "  Iliad"  quar- 
relled about  this  Helen,  and  that  she  was  very  beau- 
tiful. Therefore  he  immediately  decided  that  Helen 
of  Troy  when  she  was  a  little  girl  (she  must  have 
been  a  little  girl  once !)  was  exactly  like  the  charm- 
ing small  person  who  now  came  towards  him,  car- 
rying a  wicker  basket  on  her  arm,  and  tripping 
across  graves  as  delicately  as  though  she  were  noth- 
ing but  a  blossom  blown  over  them  by  the  summer 
breeze. 

"  Halloa !"  exclaimed  Reuben  Dale,  throwing 
down  his  spade,  "  Here's  my  little  'un  !  Well,  my 
Jas'min  flower !  Bringin'  a  snack  for  th'  old 
feyther  ?" 

At  this  query  the  little  girl  smiled,  creating  a 
luminous  effect  beneath  her  poke-bonnet  as  though 

6 


62  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

a  sunbeam  were  caught  within  it, — then  she  made  a 
small  round  O  of  her  tiny  red  mouth,  with  the 
evident  intention  to  thereby  convey  a  hint  of  some- 
thing delicious.  And  finally  she  opened  her  basket, 
and  took  out  a  brown  jug,  full  of  hot  fragrant  coffee, 
lavishly  frothed  at  the  top  with  cream,  and  two  big 
slices  of  home-made  bread  and  butter. 

"  Is  that  right,  feyther  ?"  she  inquired,  as  she 
carefully  set  these  delicacies  on  the  edge  of  the 
grave  within  her  father's  reach. 

"  That's  right,  my  bird !" — responded  Reuben, 
lifting  her  in  his  arms  high  above  his  head,  and 
giving  her  a  sounding  kiss  on  both  her  rosy  cheeks 
as  he  put  her  down  again — "  An*  look  'ere,  Jessa- 
mine, there's  a  little  gemmun  for  ye  to  talk  to.  Go 
an'  say  how-d'y-do  to  'im." 

Thus  commanded,  Jessamine  obeyed,  strictly  to 
the  letter.  She  went  to  where  Lionel  sat  admiringly 
watching  her,  and  put  out  her  dumpy  mite  of  a  hand. 

"  How-d'y-do !"  said  she.  And  before  Lionel 
could  utter  a  word  in  reply  she  had  shaken  her 
curls  defiantly,  and  run  away !  The  boy  sprang  up, 
pained  and  perplexed ; — Reuben  Dale  laughed. 

"After  her,  my  lad!  Run! — the  run'll  do  ye 
good!  She's  just  like  that  at  first, — fur  all  the 
world  like  a  kitten,  fond  o*  fun !  Ye'll  find  'er  a- 
hidin'  round  the  corner  !" 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  63 

Thus  encouraged,  Lionel  ran, — actually  ran, — a 
thing  he  very  seldom  did.  He  became  almost  a 
hero,  like  the  big  men  of  the  "  Iliad  !"  His  "  Helen" 
was  "  a-hidin'  round  the  corner," — he  was  valiantly 
determined  to  find  her, — and  after  dodging  the  little 
white  sun-bonnet  round  trees  and  over  tombs  till  he 
was  well-nigh  breathless,  she,  like  all  feminine  things, 
condescended  to  be  caught  at  last,  and  to  look  shyly 
in  the  face  of  her  youthful  captor. 

"  What  boy  be  you  ?"  she  asked,  biting  the  string 
of  her  sun-bonnet  with  an  air  of  demure  coquetry 
— "  You  be  prutty, — all  th'  boys  roond  'ere  be 
oogly." 

Oh,  what  an  accent  for  a  baby  "  Helen  of  Troy !" 
— and  yet  how  charming  it  was  to  hear  her  say 
"oogly,"  because  she  made  another  of  those  little 
round  O's  of  her  mouth  that  suggested  delicious- 
ness, — even  the  deliciousness  of  kissing.  Lionel 
thought  he  would  like  to  kiss  her,  and  coloured 
hotly  at  the  very  idea.  Meanwhile  his  "  Helen  of 
Troy"  continued  her  observation  of  him. 

"  Would  'ee  like  an  aaple  ?"  she  demanded,  pro- 
ducing a  small,  very  rosy  one  from  the  depths  of  a 
miniature  pocket, — "  I'll  gi'  ye  this  if  s'be  ye'se  let 
me  bite  th'  red  bit  oot." 

If  ever  a  young  lady  looked  "  fetching,"  as  the 
slang  phrase  expresses  it,  Miss  Jessamine  Dale  did 


64  THE  MIGHTY  A  TOM. 

so  at  that  moment.  What  with  the  mischievous 
light  in  her  dark  blue  eyes,  and  the  smile  on  her 
little  mouth  as  she  suggested  that  she  should  "  bite 
th'  red  bit,"  and  the  altogether  winsome,  provoca- 
tive, innocent  allurement  of  her  manner,  Lionel 
quite  lost  his  head  for  the  moment,  and  forgot  every- 
thing but  the  natural  facts  that  he  was  a  little  boy 
and  she  was  a  little  girl.  He  laughed  merrily, — 
such  a  laugh  as  he  had  not  enjoyed  for  many  a 
weary  day, — and  taking  the  apple  from  her  hand 
held  it  to  her  lips  while  she  carefully  closed  her  tiny 
teeth  on  the  "red  bit"  and  secured  it,  the  juice 
dropping  all  over  her  dimpled  chin. 

"  I'm  to  have  the  rest,  am  I  ?"  said  Lionel,  then, 
venturing  to  hold  her  by  the  arm  and  assist  her  over 
a  very  large  and  very  ancient  grave,  wherein  reposed, 
as  the  half-broken  tombstone  said,  "  Ye  Bodie  of 
Martha  Dumphy,  Aged  Ninety-seven  Yeeres." 
Long,  long  ago  lived  Martha  Dumphy, — long,  long 
ago  she  died, — but  could  anything  of  her  have  still 
been  conscious,  she  would  have  felt  no  offence  or 
sacrilege  in  the  tread  of  those  innocent  young  feet 
that  sprang  so  lightly  over  her  last  resting-place. 

"  Yes,  you're  to  'ave  the  rest," — replied  Jessamine, 
benevolently, — then  with  an  infinite  slyness  and  hu- 
mour she  added — "  I've  got  'nuther  i'  my  poacket !" 

How  they  laughed,  to  be  sure !    Forgetful  of"  Ye 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  65 

Bodie  of  Martha  Dumphy,"  they  sat  down  on  the 
grass  that  covered  her  old  bones,  and  enjoyed  their 
apples  to  the  full,  Miss  Jessamine  generously  be- 
stowing the  "  red  bit"  of  the  second  apple  on  Lionel, 
who,  though  he  was  not  really  hungry,  found  some- 
thing curiously  appetising  in  these  stray  morsels  of 
juicy  fruit  lately  plucked  from  the  tree. 

"  Coom  into  th'  church," — then  said  Jessamine, — 
"  Feyther's  left  the  door  open.  Coom  an'  see  th'  big 
lilies  on  th'  Lord's  table." 

Lionel  looked  into  her  lovely  little  face,  feeling 
singularly  embarrassed  by  this  invitation.  He  knew 
what  she  meant,  of  course, — he  had  been  duly  in- 
structed in  the  form  of  the  Christian  "  myth,"  as  a 
myth  only,  in  company  with  all  the  other  creeds 
known  to  history.  They  had  been  bracketed  to- 
gether for  his  study  and  consideration  in  a  group  of 
twelve,  thus : — 

1.  Of  Phta,  and  the  Egyptian  mythology. 

2.  Of  Brahma,  Vishnu  and  the  Hindoo  Cults. 

3.  Of  the  Chaldean  and  Phrenician  creeds. 

4.  Of  the  Greek  and  Roman  gods. 

5.  Of  Buddha  and  Buddhism. 

6.  Of  Confucius  and  the  Chinese  sects. 

7.  Of  the  Mexican  mythology. 

8.  Of  Odin  and  the  Norse  beliefs. 

9.  Of  Mohammedanism  and  the  Koran. 

e  6* 


66  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

10.  Of  the  Talmud  and  Jewish  tradition. 

11.  Of  Christ,  and  the  gradual   founding  of  the 
Christian  myth,  on  the  relics  of  Greek  and  Roman 
Paganism. 

12.  Of    the    Advance    of    Positivism    and    Pure 
Reason,   in  which  all    these  creeds  are  proved   to 
be    without    foundation,    and     merely    serving    as 
obstacles  to  the  Intellectual  Progress  of  Man. 

The  above  "  schedule"  had  formed  a  very  special 
and  particular  part  of  Lionel's  education,  and  he 
had  been  carefully  taught  that  only  semi-barbarians 
believed  nowadays  in  anything  divine  or  super- 
natural. The  intellectual  classes  fully  understood, 
so  he  was  told,  that  there  was  no  God,  and  that 
the  First  Cause  of  the  universe  was  merely  an 
Atom,  productive  of  other  atoms  which  moved  in 
circles  of  fortuitous  regularity,  shaping  worlds  in- 
differently, and  without  any  Mind-force  whatever 
behind  the  visible  Matter.  Thus  had  the  intel- 
lectual classes  fathomed  the  Eternal,  entirely  to 
their  own  satisfaction, — and,  of  course,  he,  poor 
little  Lionel,  was  being  brought  up  to  take  his 
place  among  the  intellectual  classes,  where  his 
father  was  already  a  shining  light  of  dogmatic 
pedantry.  He  was  assured  that  only  the  poor, 
the  ignorant,  and  the  feeble-minded  still  appealed 
to  God  as  "  Our  Father,"  and  believed  in  the 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM,  67 

socialist  workman,  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  as  a  Divine 
Personage  whose  way  of  life  and  death  had  shown 
all  men  the  road  to  Heaven.  One  of  the  chief 
faults  found  with  Willie  Montrose  as  a  tutor  had 
been  his  implicit  faith  in  these  supernatural  things, 
and  his  point-black  refusal  to  teach  his  young  pupil 
otherwise.  Hence  the  subject,  Religion,  had  been 
removed  altogether  from  Lionel's  "  course  of  study," 
and  the  unswerving  firmness  Montrose  had  shown 
on  the  matter  had  led,  among  other  more  trifling 
drawbacks,  to  his  dismissal.  All  this  was  fresh  in 
the  boy's  mind, — and  now  Jessamine  said,  "  Coom 
an'  see  th'  big  lilies  on  th'  Lord's  table!"  She, 
then,  was  one  of  the  "  semi-barbarians,"  this  pretty 
little  girl, — and  yet  how  happy  she  seemed ! — what 
an  innocent,  dove-like  expression  of  tenderness  and 
trust  shone  in  her  eyes  as  she  spoke !  How  very 
young  she  was ! — and  alas,  how  very  old  he  felt  as 
he  looked  at  her!  She  knew  so  little, — he  had 
learned  so  much,  and  though  he  was  but  four 
years  her  senior,  he  seemed  in  his  own  pained 
consciousness  to  be  an  elderly  man  studying  the 
merry  pranks  of  a  child. 

"  Coom!"  repeated  Jessamine, — her  "coom"  sound- 
ing very  like  the  soft  note  of  a  ring-dove,  as  she  got 
up  from  the  grassy  bed  of  "  Martha  Dumphy's"  ever- 
lasting sleep — "  It  be  cool  i'  th'  church, — we'll  sit  i' 


68  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

th'  poopit  an'  y'  shall  tell  me  a  story  'bout  Heaven. 
Y'  know  all  'bout  angels,  don't  'ee  ?  How  they 
cooms  down  all  in  white  an'  kisses  us  when  we'se  in 
bed  asleep  ?  Did  ever  any  of  'em  kiss  'ee  ?" 

Lionel's  lonely  little  heart  beat  strangely.  An 
angel  kiss  him! — what  a  sweet  fancy, — but  how 
foolish  !  Yet  with  Jessamine's  face  so  near  his  own 
he  could  not  tell  her  that  he  did  not  believe  in 
angels,  she  looked  so  like  a  little  one  herself.  So 
he  answered  her  quaint  question  with  a  simple 

"  No !" 

"  I  would  ha'  thowt  they  did," — continued  Jessa- 
mine, encouragingly — "Ye  bain't  a  bad  boy,  be 
ye?" 

Lionel  smiled  rather  plaintively. 

"  Perhaps  I  am," — he  said, — "  and  perhaps  that's 
why  the  angels  don't  come." 

"  My  mother's  an  angel,"  "went  on  Jessamine — 
"  She  couldn't  abear  bein'  away  from  God  no  longer 
an'  so  she  flew  to  Heaven  one  night  quite  suddint, 
with  big  white  wings  an'  a  star  on  her  head.  Feyther 
says  she  often  flies  doon  jes'  for  a  minute  like  an' 
kisses  'im,  an'  me,  too,  when  we'se  asleep.  Auntie 
Kate  takes  care  of  us  since  she  went." 

"  Then  she  is  dead  ?"  queried  Lionel. 

"  Nowt  o'  that," — replied  Jessamine,  peacefully — 
"  Hasn't  I  told  'ee  she's  an  angel  ?" 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  69 

"  But  have  you  ever  seen  her  since  she  went 
away  ?"  persisted  the  boy. 

"  No.  I  hain't  good  enough" — and  a  small  sigh 
of  pathetic  self-reproach  heaved  the  baby  breast — 
"  I'se  very  little  yet,  an'  bad  offen.  But  I'll  see  her 
some  day  for  sure." 

Lionel  could  find  nothing  to  say  to  this,  and  in 
another  minute  they  had  entered  the  church  to- 
gether. The  subtle  sweet  fragrance  of  the  "big 
lilies  on  th'  Lord's  table"  came  floating  towards 
them  on  a  cool  breath  of  air  as  the  heavy  old 
oaken  door  swung  open  and  closed  again,  and  they 
paused  in  the  aisle,  hand  in  hand,  looking  gravely 
up  and  down, — first  at  the  tall  white  flowers  that 
filled  the  gilt  vases  on  either  side  of  the  altar,  mys- 
tically suggesting  in  their  snowy  stateliness,  the 
words,  "  Blessed  are  the  pure  in  heart,  for  they  shall 
see  God ;" — then,  at  the  patterns  of  blue,  red,  and 
amber  cast  on  the  stone  pavement  by  the  reflections 
of  the  sun  through  the  stained -glass  windows.  The 
ancient  roof  with  its  crookedly  planned  oak  mould- 
ings of  the  very  earliest  English  style  of  archi- 
tecture, had  a  grave  and  darkening  effect  on  the 
sunshine,  and  the  solemn  hush  of  the  place,  ex- 
pressive of  past  prayer,  impressed  Lionel  with  a 
sweet  yet  unfamiliar  sense  of  rest.  Jessamine 
grasped  his  hand  closer. 


70  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

"  Coom  into  th'  poopit," — she  whispered — "  There 
be  soft  cushions  there  an'  a  big,  big  Bible, — I'll  show 
'ee  a  pictur" — here  she  opened  her  eyes  very  wide — 
"  my  pictur ! — my  own  very  best  pictur !" 

Somewhat  curious  to  see  this  treasure,  Lionel 
climbed  with  her  up  the  pulpit-stairs,  feeling  that  he 
was  really  having  what  might  be  called  an  adven- 
ture on  this  his  stolen  holiday.  Jessamine  was 
evidently  quite  familiar  with  the  pulpit  as  a  coign  of 
vantage,  for  she  hauled  the  big  Bible  she  had  spoken 
of  out  of  its  recess  with  much  care  and  much  breath- 
less labour  and  placed  it  on  a  velvet  cushion  on  the 
floor.  Then  she  curled  herself  down  beside  it  and, 
turning  over  a  few  pages,  beckoned  Lionel  to  kneel 
and  look  also. 

"  Here  'tis !"  she  said,  with  a  soft  chuckle  of 
rapture — "  See !  See  this  prutty  boy  ! — you's  some- 
thin'  a  bit  like,  aint'y?  An'  see  all  these  oogly  ole 
men !  They'se  wise  people,  so  they  thinks.  An' 
th'  prutty  boy's  tellin'  'em  how  silly  they  be,  an'  aw' 
in  a  muddle  wi'  their  books  an'  larnin', — an'  how 
good  God  is,  an'  all  'bout  Heaven, — see !  An' 
they'se  very  angry  wi'm  an'  'stonished,  'cos  He's 
onny  a  boy,  an'  they'se  all  ol'  men  as  cross  as  sticks. 
An'  there  He  is  y'  see,  an'  He  knows  all  about  what 
they  oogly  men  doan't  know,  'cos  He's  the  little 
Jesus." 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  71 

The  subject  of  the  picture  was  Christ  expounding 
the  Law  to  the  doctors  of  the  Temple,  and  Lionel 
studied  it  with  an  almost  passionate  interest.  Only 
a  boy! — and  yet  in  His  boyhood  He  was  able  to 
teach  the  would-be  wise  men  of  His  day !  "  Though," 
thought  Lionel,  with  his  usual  melancholy  cynicism, 
"  perhaps  they  were  not  really  wise,  and  that  is  why 
He  found  it  easy." 

Meanwhile  Jessamine  having  gloated  over  her  "  own 
best  pictur"  sufficiently,  shut  the  book,  put  it  relig- 
iously back  in  its  place,  and  sat  herself  down  beside 
her  companion  on  the  top  step  of  the  pulpit-stair. 

"  Wot's  y'  name  ?"  she  demanded. 

"  Lionel,"  he  answered. 

"  Li'nel  ?  How  funny !  Wot's  Li'nel  ?  'Tain't  a 
flower?" 

"  No.     Your  name  is  a  flower." 

"  'Iss !  Our  jess'mine  tree  was  all  over  bloom  the 
mornin'  I  was  born,  an'  that's  why  I'm  called  Jessa- 
mine. I  likes  my  name  better'n  your'n." 

"  So  do  I,"  said  Lionel,  smiling — "  Mine  is  not 
nearly  such  a  pretty  name.  My  mother  calls  me 
Lylie." 

"  I  likes  that, — that's  prutty, — I'se  cally*  Lylie, 
too,"  declared  Miss  Jessamine  promptly,  and  as  she 
spoke  she  slipped  an  arm  confidingly  round  his  neck 
— "  You  be  a  nice  boy,  Lylie  !  Now  tell  me  a  story !" 


CHAPTER  V. 

LIONEL  gazed  at  her  in  deeper  perplexity  than 
ever.  What  story  could  he  tell  her?  He  knew 
none  that  were  likely  to  charm  or  interest  a  creature 
so  extremely  young.  It  was  very  delightful  to  feel 
her  warm  chubby  arm  round  his  neck  and  to  see  her 
dear  little  face  so  close  to  his  own,  and  he  thought, 
as  he  looked,  that  he  had  never  seen  such  beautiful 
blue  eyes  before,  not  even  his  mother's,  which  he  had 
till  now  considered  beautiful  enough.  But  Jessa- 
mine's eyes  had  such  heavenly  sweetness  in  their 
liquid  depths,  and  something  moreover  beyond  mere 
sweetness, — the  untroubled  light  of  a  spotless  inno- 
cence such  as  sometimes  makes  the  softly-tinted  cup 
of  a  woodland  flower  remind  one  involuntarily  of  a 
child's  eyes.  Only  a  very  few  flowers  convey  this 
impression, — the  delicate  azure  circle  of  the  hepatica, 
— the  dark  purple  centre  of  the  pansy, — the  pensive 
blue  of  the  harebell, — the  frank  smiling  sky-tint  of 
the  forget-me-not,  or  the  iris-veined  heart  of  the 
Egyptian  lotus.  But  the  child-look  is  in  such  blos- 
soms, and  we  often  recognise  it  when  we  come  sud- 
denly upon  them  peering  heavenwards  out  of  the 
green  tangles  of  grass  and  fern.  Jessamine's  eyes 
72 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  73 

were  a  mixture  of  grave  pansy-hues  and  laughing 
forget-me-nots,  and  when  she  smiled  both  these 
flowers  appeared  to  meet  with  a  pretty  rivalry  in  her 
shining  glances.  And  once  again  Lionel  thought  of 
Helen  of  Troy. 

"  Ain't  'ee  got  no  story  ?"  quoth  she,  presently, 
after  waiting  a  patient  two  minutes — "  What  book 
be  that  there  ?" 

And  she  put  a  dumpy  little  red  finger  on  the  copy 
of  Homer  left  behind  by  Willie  Montrose  and  still 
carried  under  Lionel's  arm. 

"  It's  Homer,"  replied  the  boy,  promptly — "  My 
tutor  went  away  by  the  first  coach  this  morning  and 
he  forgot  to  take  it  with  him.  It's  his  book,  and  a 
favourite  copy, — I  must  send  it  to  him  by  post." 

"  'Iss, — 'ee  must  send  it  to  him,"  echoed  Jessamine, 
approvingly — "  What  be  'Omer  ?" 

"  He  was  a  great  poet, — the  first  great  poet  that 
ever  lived,  so  far  as  history  knows,  and  he  was  an 
ancient  Greek  " — explained  Lionel — "  He  lived — oh, 
ages  ago.  He  tells  all  about  the  Trojan  wars  in  this 
book ;  it's  an  epic." 

"What's  epik?"  inquired  Jessamine — "  An'  what's 
Drojun  wors  ?" 

Lionel  laughed  softly.  The  gravity  of  the  old 
church  roof  hung  over  him,  otherwise  his  laughter 
would  have  been  less  restrained. 


74  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

"  You  wouldn't  understand  it,  if  I  told  you,  dear," 
he  said,  becoming  suddenly  protective  and  manful  as 
he  realised  her  delightful  ignorance  and  weakness — 
"  Homer  was  a  poet, — do  you  know  what  poetry  is  ?" 

"  'Iss, — 'deed  I  do !"  declared  Jessamine,  allowing 
her  head  to  droop  caressingly  on  his  shoulder — "  I've 
'eerd  a  lot  o't.  I'll  tell  you  some, — it  be  like  this, — 

" '  Gentle  Jesus,  meek  an'  mild, 
Look  upon  a  little  child, 
Pity  my  simplicitzV, 
An'  suffer  me  to  come  to  Thee ! '  " 

She  looked  up  as  she  finished  the  familiar  stanza 
with  one  of  her  radiant  baby  smiles. 

"  Didn't  I  say  that  nice  ?"  she  demanded. 

"  Very  nice !"  murmured  Lionel,  while  thoughts 
were  flying  round  and  round  in  his  brain  concerning 
the  "  semi-barbarians  who  still  believed  in  the  Chris- 
tian myth,"  which  was  one  of  his  father's  constantly 
repeated  and  favourite  phrases. 

"  Now  tell  me  some  more  'Omer  an'  Drojun  wors" 
— she  said,  nestling  against  him  like  a  soft  kitten — 
"  Is  it  'bout  angels  ?" 

"  No,"  replied  Lionel, — "  It  is  all  about  great  big 
men, — very  big  men " 

"  Too  big  to  get  into  this  church  ?"  queried  Jessa- 
mine in  awe-struck  tones. 

"  Yes — I  believe  they  would  have  been  too  big  to 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  75 

get  into  this  church" — said  Lionel,  smiling  involun- 
tarily— "And  they  all  fought  about  a  lady  called 
Helen,  who  was  the  most  beautiful  woman  in  the 
world." 

"  Why  did  she  let  'em  fight  ?"  asked  Jessamine 
gravely — "  She  was  not  a  good  lady  to  let  the  poor 
big  men  fight  an*  'urt  theirselves  for  'er.  She  should 
'ave  made  'em  all  friends." 

"  She  couldn't" — said  Lionel — "  You  see  they 
wouldn't  be  friends." 

"  They  must  ha'  been  funny  big  men  !"  murmured 
Jessamine — "  Where  be  they  all  now?" 

"  Oh,  dead  ever  so  long  ago  !"  laughed  the  boy — 
"  Some  people  say  they  never  lived  at  all !" 

"  Oh,  then  it's  all  fairy-tale  like  Puss-in-Boots," 
said  Jessamine — "Your  Drojun  wors  is  a  fairy-book 
like  mine.  Only  I  like  Puss-in-Boots  better.  Do 
'ee  know  my  fairy-book  ?" 

Lionel  had  never  had  what  is  called  a  "  fairy- 
book"  in  his  life,  fairy-books  having  been  considered 
by  his  father  in  the  same  light  as  that  with  which 
Mr.  H.  Holman,  one  of  Her  Majesty's  Inspectors 
of  Schools,  recently  regarded  them,  publicly  de- 
nouncing them  as  "  dangerous  to  morality  and  mis- 
chievous as  to  knowledge,  contradicting  the  most 
obvious  and  elementary  facts  of  experience."  (Alas, 
good  Dry-as-Dust  Holman !  How  much  thou  art 


76  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

to  be  pitied  for  never  having  been  in  the  least  young ! 
And  dost  thou  not  realise  that  Religion  itself  in  all 
its  forms  of  creed,  "  contradicts  the  most  obvious 
and  elementary  facts  of  experience"  ?)  The  little 
Lionel  was  unacquainted  with  Mr.  Holman,  but  he 
knew  his  own  father's  stern  contempt  for  fairy-tales, 
even  for  those  which  have,  in  many  cases,  strangely 
foretold  some  of  the  most  brilliant  recent  discoveries 
in  science,  so  he  replied  to  Jessamine's  question  by 
a  negative  shake  of  his  head,  the  while  he  gazed 
admiringly  at  the  nut-brown  curls  that  rippled  in 
charming  disarray  on  bis  shoulder. 

"  I'll  tell  'ee  somethin'  in  it,"  she  continued,  with 
the  thinking,  dreamy  air  of  a  child-angel  rapt  in 
some  sublime  reverie — "  There  wos  once  a  little  girl 
an'  a  little  boy, — 'bout  s'  big  as  we  be, — they  wos  good 
an*  prutty,  an'  they'd  got  a  bad,  bad  ole  uncle.  He 
couldn't  abide  'em  'cos  they  wos  s'  good  an'  'e  wos 
s'  bad;  so  one  day  'e  took  'em  out  in  a  great  big 
dark  wood  where  no  sun  couldn't  shine,  an'  there 
'e  lost  'em  both.  An'  when  they  wos  lost,  they 
walked  'bout,  up  an'  down,  an'  couldn't  get  out 
nohow,  an'  they  got  tired  an'  'ungry,  an'  so  they  laid 
down  an'  said  their  prayers,  an'  put  their  arms  round 
each  other's  necks, — so — "  and  here  Jessamine  cud- 
dled closer — "an'  died  jest  right  off,  'an'  God  took 
'em  straight  to  Heaven.  An'  then  all  the  robin-red- 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  77 

breasts  F  th'  wood  were  sorry  'bout  it,  an'  they  came 
an'  covered  'em  all  over  wi'  beautiful  red  an*  green 
leaves,  'cos  God  told  the  robins  to  bury  'em  jest  so, 
'cos  they  wos  good  an'  their  ole  uncle  was  bad,  an' 
the  robins  did  jest  what  God  told  'em."  Her  voice 
died  away  in  a  soft  croodling  whisper,  and  her  eye- 
lids drooped.  "  Was  that  a  nice  story  ?"  she  asked. 

"  Very !"  responded  Lionel,  almost  paternally,  feel- 
ing quite  old  and  wise,  as  he  ventured  now  to  put 
his  own  arm  round  her. 

"I  fink,"  murmured  Jessamine  then — "that  'oor 
bad  ole  Drojun  wors  'as  made  me  sleepy." 

And  as  a  matter  of  fact,  in  a  couple  of  minutes,  the 
little  maiden  was  fast  asleep,  her  pretty  mouth  half 
open  like  a  tiny  rosebud,  and  the  light  rise  and  fall 
of  her  breathing  suggesting  the  delicate  palpitations 
of  a  dove's  breast.  Lionel  sat  very  quiet,  still  encir- 
cling her  with  his  arm,  and  looked  dreamily  about 
him.  He  studied  the  altar-screen  immediately  in 
front  of  him,  regarding  with  somewhat  of  a  gravely 
inquiring  air  the  ancient,  roughly  carved  oaken  figures 
of  the  twelve  apostles  that  partly  formed  it.  He 
knew  all  about  them  of  course, — that  they  were 
originally  common  fishermen  picked  up  on  the 
shores  of  Galilee  by  Jesus  the  son  of  Joseph  the  car- 
penter, and  that  they  went  about  with  Him  every- 
where while  He  preached  the  new  strange  Gospel  of 


78  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

Love  which  seemed  like  madness  to  a  world  of  con- 
tention, envy,  and  malice.  They  were  just  poor 
ordinary  men  ; — not  kings, — not  warriors, — not  nobly 
born, — not  distinguished  for  either  learning  or  cour- 
age,— and  yet  they  had  become  far  greater  in  history 
than  any  monarch  that  ever  lived, — they  were  evan- 
gelists, saints,  nay  almost  secondary  gods  in  the 
opinion  of  a  section  of  "  semi-barbaric"  mankind.  It 
was  very  strange ! — very  strange  indeed,  thought 
Lionel  as  he  gazed  earnestly  at  their  quaint  wooden 
faces, — and  stranger  still  that  a  mere  man  who  was  a 
carpenter's  son  should  have  made  the  larger  and 
more  civilised  portion  of  humanity  believe  in  Him  as 
God  for  more  than  eighteen  hundred  years !  What 
had  He  done?  Why  nothing, — but  good.  What 
had  He  taught  ?  Nothing  but — purity  and  unselfish- 
ness. What  was  He  ?  A  determined  reformer,  who 
strove  to  upset  the  hard  and  fast  laws  of  Jewish  tra- 
dition, and  unite  all  classes  in  one  broad  and  holy 
creed  of  love  to  God  and  Brotherhood, — a  union  of 
the  Divine  and  Human  which  should  ultimately  lead 
to  perfection.  Even  the  various  tutors  who  had 
taken  their  several  turns  at  setting  poor  Lionel's 
little  mind  like  a  knife  to  the  grindstone  of  learning, 
had  been  unable  to  say  otherwise  than  that  this 
Nazarene  carpenter's  son  was  good  and  wise  and 
brave.  In  goodness  none  ever  surpassed  Him, — that 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  79 

was  certain.  Socrates  was  wise  and  brave, — but  he 
was  not  actually  good  ; — many  sins  could  be  laid  to 
his  charge,  and  the  same  could  be  asserted  of  all  the 
other  famous  moralists  and  philosophers  who  had 
essayed  to  teach  the  various  successive  generations 
of  men.  But  against  Christ  nothing  could  be  said. 
True,  He  denounced  the  Jewish  priesthood  on  the 
score  that  they  were  hypocrites ;  "  and  surely," 
thought  Lionel  with  a  prescience  beyond  his  years 
"  He  would  have  to  denounce  the  Christian  priest- 
hood too  if  it  is  true,  as  my  father  says  that  they  all 
preach  what  they  don't  believe,  simply  to  gain  a 
living."  He  sighed, — and  his  eyes  wandered  to 
the  "  big  lilies  on  th'  Lord's  table"  with  a  wistful 
yearning.  Those  great  white  cups  of  fragrance ! 
— with  what  sweet  pride  they  stood  up,  each  on  its 
green  stem  and  silently  breathed  out  praise  to  the 
Creator  of  their  loveliness  !  "  Behold  the  lilies  of  the 
field ! — they  toil  not,  neither  do  they  spin,  and  yet  I 
say  unto  you  that  Solomon  in  all  his  glory  was  not 
arrayed  like  one  of  these."  How  true  that  was! 
Put  "  Solomon  in  all  his  glory"  or  any  monarch  that 
ever  existed  beside  "  one  of  these"  tall  fair  flowers, 
and  he,  in  his  coronation-robes  and  crown,  would 
seem  but  a  mere  doll-puppet  decked  out  in  tawdry 
tinsel.  Lionel  drew  the  little  Jessamine  closer  to 
him  as  she  slept,  and  sighed  again, — the  unconscious 


80  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

sigh  of  a  tired  young  thing  overweighted  with 
thought,  and  longing  for  rest  and  tenderness.  The 
summer  sunlight  streamed  down  upon  the  two  chil- 
dren with  a  broad  beneficence,  as  though  the  love  of 
Christ  for  the  weak  and  helpless  were  mixed  with  the 
golden  rays, — as  though  the  very  silence  and  purity 
of  the  light  expressed  the  Divine  meaning, — "  These 
'  little  ones'  are  Mine  as  the  lilies  are  Mine  !  Suffer 
them  to  come  to  Me  and  forbid  them  not,  for  of  such 
is  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven."  And  as  Lionel  mused 
and  dreamed,  becoming  gradually  drowsy  himself,  the 
church-door  swung  softly  open,  and  Reuben  Dale 
the  verger  entered  with  another  and  younger  man 
who  carried  a  roll  of  music  under  his  arm,  and  who 
immediately  ascended  alone  to  the  organ-loft.  Dale 
meanwhile  paused,  lifting  his  cap  reverently  and 
looking  about  him  in  evident  search  for  his  little 
girl.  Lionel  beckoned  to  him  from  the  pulpit-stairs, 
at  the  same  time  laying  a  ringer  on  his  lips  to  inti- 
mate that  Jessamine  was  asleep.  Honest  Reuben 
advanced  on  tip-toe,  and  surveyed  the  two  small 
creatures  encircled  in  one  another's  arms,  with  undis- 
guised and  good-natured  admiration. 

"  Now  that's  jest  prutty  !"  he  murmured,  inaudibly 
to  himself — "  An'  as  nat'ral  as  two  young  burrds. 
An"  yon  poor  pale  little  lad  looks  a'most  as  if  he 
was  'appy  for  once  in's  life !" 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  8 1 

At  that  moment  a  solemn  chord  of  sound  stirred 
the  air, — the  organist  had  commenced  his  daily 
practice,  and  was  deftly  unweaving  the  melodious 
intricacies  of  a  stately  fugue  of  Bach's,  made  doubly 
rich  in  tone  by  the  grave  pedal-bass  with  which  it 
was  sustained  and  accompanied.  Lionel  started, — 
and  Jessamine  awoke.  Rubbing  her  chubby  little 
fists  into  her  eyes,  she  sat  up,  yawned  and  stared, — 
then  smiled  bewitchingly  as  she  saw  her  father. 

"  We  wos  babes  i'  th'  wood,"  she  explained, 
sweetly — "  An'  we  wos  waitin'  fur  the  robins  to  come 
an'  cover  us  up.  Onny  I  'specs  they  couldn't  git 
froo  th'  windows  to  bring  th'  leaves." 

"  I  'specs  not,  indeed  !"  said  Dale,  the  kind  smile 
broadening  on  his  mouth  and  lighting  up  his  fine 
eyes — "  Now  ye  jest  coom  out  o'  that  there  poopit, 
ye  little  pixie — it's  dinner-time  an'  we'se  goin* 
'ome." 

Jessamine  rose  promptly  and  skipped  down  the 
pulpit-stairs,  Lionel  following  her. 

"  Coom  along  wi'  us,"  she  said,  taking  him  affec- 
tionately by  the  arm — "Ain't  'e  a'-coomin,'  feyther? 
— 'e  be  a  rare  nice  boy  !" 

"  If  s'  be  as  'e  likes  to  coom,  why  sartinly  an' 
welcome !"  responded  Reuben, — "  But  he's  a  little 
gemmum  as  'as  got  a  feyther  an'  mother  o's  own, 
an'  mebbe  they  wants  "im." 


82  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

Lionel  stood  silent  and  inert.  They  were  going 
away  "  home," — this  cheery  verger  and  his  pretty 
child, — and  the  old  creeping  sense  of  oppression  and 
loneliness  stole  over  the  boy's  mind  and  chilled  his 
heart.  The  music  surging  out  from  the  organ-loft 
moved  him  strangely  to  thoughts  hitherto  unfamiliar, 
— and  he  thought  he  would  stay  alone  in  the  church 
and  listen,  and  try  to  understand  the  subtle  meaning 
of  such  glorious,  yet  wordless  eloquence.  It  seemed 
like  angels  singing, — only  there  were  no  angels  ! — it 
made  one  fancy  the  gates  of  Heaven  were  open, — 
only  there  was  no  Heaven ! — it  suggested  God's 
great  voice  speaking  tenderly, — only  there  was  no 
God!  A  deep  sigh  broke  from  him, — and  all  un- 
consciously two  big  tears  rose  in  his  eyes  and 
splashed  down  wet  and  glistening  on  his  little  blue 
woollen  vest.  In  a  second  the  impulsive  Jessamine 
had  thrown  her  arms  about  him. 

"  O  don't  'ee  ky !"  she  crooned  fondly  in  his  ear — 
"  We'se  both  goin'  'ome  wi'  feyther,  an'  'e'll  be  kind 
t'  ye !  An'  when  we've  'ad  our  dinner  I'll  show  'ee 
my  dee  ole  'oss  ! — such  a  nice  ole  'oss  'e  be !" 

Despite  himself,  Lionel  laughed,  though  his  lips 
still  trembled.  Poor  boy,  he  could  hardly  himself 
understand  the  cause  of  his  own  emotion, — why  his 
heart  had  given  that  sudden  heave  of  pain, — why  the 
tears  had  come, — or  why  he  had  felt  so  desolately, 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  83 

sorrowfully  alone  in  a  huge,  cold,  pitiless  world, — 
but  he  was  grateful  to  Jessamine  all  the  same  for 
her  sympathy.  Reuben  Dale  meanwhile  had  been 
studying  him  gravely  and  curiously. 

"  Would  'ee  reely  like  to  coom  an"  take  a  snack 
wi'  us,  little  zur  ?"  he  asked  gently  and  with  a  cer- 
tain deference — "  Ours  is  onny  a  poor  cottage,  ye 
know,  an*  sadly  out  o'  repair, — we'se  'ad  no  lord  o' 
th'  manor  coom  nigh  us  for  many  a  year  to  look 
arter  us  an'  see  how  we  be  a-farin', — none  o'  them 
fine  folks  cares  for  either  our  souls  or  bodies,  pur- 
vidin'  they  gits  their  money  out  o'  our  labour  an' 
worrit.  All  we  'as  by  way  o'  remembrance  from 
'em  is  a  '  love-letter'  twice  a  year  a-claimin'  o'  their 
rent, — they  never  fails  to  send  us  that  'ffectionate 
message" — and  his  eyes  twinkled  humorously — "  but 
as  fur  puttin'  a  new  fence  or  a  new  roof  or  makin' 
of  us  comfortabler  like  for  our  money,  Lor'  bless  'ee, 
they  never  thinks  o't.  But  if  ye'll  take  us  as  ye  find 
us,  ye'll  be  right  welcome  to  coom  on  an'  play  wi' 
Jessamine  a  bit  longer." 

"  Thank  you  very  much, — I  should  dearly  like  to 
come,"  said  Lionel,  wistfully — "  You  see  I  am  all 
alone  just  now, — my  tutor  went  away  this  morning, 
and  another  tutor  is  coming  to-night  to  take  his 
place, — but  in  the  meantime  there  is  nothing  for  me 
to  do,  as  the  plan  of  my  studies  is  going  to  be 


84  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

changed, — it  is  always  being  changed, — and  so  I 
may  as  well  be  here  as  at  home.  I  am  giving  my- 
self a  holiday  to-day  " — here  he  raised  his  eyes  and 
looked  Reuben  Dale  straight  in  the  face — "  and  I 
wish  to  tell  you,  Mr.  Dale,  that  I  am  doing  it  with- 
out my  father's  knowledge  or  permission.  I  am  so 
tired  of  books  ! — and  I  love  to  be  out  in  the  fresh 
air.  Of  course  now  you  know  this,  you  mayn't  wish 
to  have  me,  but  then  if  you  will  please  say  so,  I  will 
go  into  the  woods  for  the  rest  of  the  day,  or  stay  by 
myself  in  the  church.  I  should  like  to  see  more  of 
the  church, — it  interests  me." 

Dale  regarded  the  little  fellow  steadfastly,  first  in 
doubt  and  perplexity,  then  with  a  broadening  smile. 

"  Tired  o'  books,  be  'ee  ?"  he  queried—"  Well  !— 
ye're  young  enough,  sure-/y  /  An'  books  can  wait 
awhile  for  ye.  Reyther  than  go  wanderin'  i'  th' 
woods  by  y'self,  ye'd  better  coom  along  wi'  me  an* 
Jessamine, — onny  mind,  ye  must  tell  yer  feyther 
where  ye  ha'  been, — ye  must  be  sartin  zure  o'  that!" 

"  Of  course  I'll  tell  him,"  responded  Lionel,  man- 
fully— "  I  always  tell  him  everything,  no  matter  how 
angry  he  is.  You  see  he  is  very  often  angry,  what- 
ever I  do  or  say, — though  he  means  it  all  for  my 
good.  He  is  a  very  good  man, — he  has  never  done 
anything  wrong  in  all  his  life !" 

"  Ay,  ay !    Then  he's  jest  a  miracle !"  said  Reuben, 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  85 

drily, — "  Well  now,  little  zur,  Tore  we  goes  I'll  take 
ye  round  th'  church, — there  ain't  much  to  see,  but 
what  there  is  I  know  more  about  than  anyone  else  in 
Combmartin.  Coom ! — look  at  these  'ere  altar- 
gates." 

He  spoke  in  soft  tones  and  trod  softly  as  befitted 
the  sanctity  of  the  place, — and  the  two  children  fol- 
lowed him,  hand  in  hand,  as  he  approached  the 
oaken  screen  and  pointed  out  the  twelve  apostles 
carved  upon  it. 

"  Now  do  'ee  know,  little  zur,"  said  he,  "  why  this 
'ere  carvin'  is  at  least  two  hunner'  years  old — an* 
likely  more'n  that  ?" 

"  No,"  answered  Lionel,  squeezing  Jessamine's 
little  warm  hand  in  his  own,  out  of  sheer  comfort 
at  feeling  that  he  was  not  to  be  separated  from  her 
yet. 

"  Jest  watch  these  'ere  gates  as  I  pull  'em  to  an' 
fro,"  continued  Reuben, — "  Do  what  ye  will  wi' 
'em,  they  won't  shut, — see !"  and  he  proved  the  fact 
beyond  dispute, — "  That  shows  they  wos  made  'fore 
the  days  o'  Cromwell.  For  in  they  times  all  the 
gates  o'  th'  altars  was  copied  arter  the  pattern  o' 
Scripture  which  sez — '  An'  the  gates  o'  Heaven  shall 
never  be  shut,  either  by  day  or  by  night.'  Then 
when  Cromwell  came  an'  broke  up  the  statues  an' 
tore  down  the  picters  or  whited  them  out  wheresever 


86  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

they  wos  on  th'  walls,  the  altars  wos  made  different, 
wi'  gates  that  shut  an'  locked, — I  s'pose  'e  wos  that 
sing'ler  afraid  of  idolatry  that  'e  thought  the  folks 
might  go  an'  worship  th'  Communion  cup  on  th' 
Lord's  table.  S'now  ye'll  be  able  to  tell  when  ye 
sees  the  inside  of  a  church  whether  the  altar-gates 
is  old  or  new,  by  this  one  thing, — if  they  can't  shut 
they're  'fore  Cromwell's  day, — if  they  can  they're 
wot's  called  modern  gimcrackery.  Now,  see  the 
roof!" 

Lionel  looked  up,  much  impressed  by  the  verger's 
learning. 

11  Folks  'as  bin  'ere  an'  said  quite  wise-like — '  O 
that  roof's  quite  modern,' — but  'tain't  nuthin'  o'  th' 
sort.  See  them  oak  mouldings  ? — not  one  o'  them's 
straight, — not  a  line !  They  couldn't  get  'em  exact 
in  them  days, — they  wasn't  clever  enough.  So 
they're  all  crooked  an'  'bout  as  old  as  th'  altar- 
screen, — mebbe  older,  for  if  ye  stand  'ere  jest  where 
I  be,  ye'll  see  they  all  bend  more  one  way  than 
t'other,  makin'  the  whole  roof  look  lop-sided  like, 
an'  why's  that  d'ye  think?  Ye  can't  tell?  Well, 
they'd  a  reason  for  what  they  did  in  them  there  old 
times  an'  a  sentiment  too, — an'  they  made  the 
churches  lean  a  bit  to  the  side  on  which  our  Lord's 
head  bent  on  the  Cross  when  He  said'  It  is  finished!' 
Ye'll  find  nearly  all  th'  old  churches  lean  a  bit  that 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  87 

way, — it's  a  sign  of  age  as  well  as  a  sign  o'  faith. 
Now  look  at  these  'ere  figures  on  the  pews, — ain't 
they  all  got  their  'eads  cut  off?" 

Lionel  admitted  that  they  had,  with  a  grave  little 
nod, — Jessamine,  who  copied  his  every  gesture  for 
the  moment,  nodded  too. 

"That  wos  Cromwell's  doin',"  went  on  Reuben, 
— "  'E  an'  'is  men  wos  consumed-like  wi'  what  they 
called  the  fury  o'  holiness,  an'  they  thought  all  these 
figures  wos  false  gods  and  symbols  of  idolatry,  an' 
they  jest  cut  their  'eads  off, — executed  'em  as  'twere, 
like  King  Charles  hisself.  Now  look  up  there," — 
and  he  pointed  to  a  narrow  window  on  the  left-hand 
side  of  the  chancel — "  There's  a  prutty  colour  comin' 
through  that  bit  o'  glass !  It's  the  only  mossel  o' 
real  old  stained  glass  i'  th'  church, — an'  it's  a  rare 
sight  older  than  the  church  itself.  D'ye  know  how 
to  tell  old  stained  glass  from  new  ?  No  ?  Well,  I'll 
tell  ye.  When  it's  old  it's  very  thick, — an'  if  ye  put 
your  hand  on  its  wrong  side  it's  rough, — very  rough, 
jest  as  if  'twere  covered  wi'  baked  cinders, — that's 
allus  a  sure  an'  sartin  proof  o'  great  age.  Modern 
stained  glass  ye'll  find  a'most  as  smooth  an'  polished 
on  its  wrong  side  as  on  its  right.  Now,  if  ye  coom 
into  th'  vestry  I'll  show  ye  the  real  old  chest  what 
wos  used  for  Peter's  pence  when  we  wos  under  Papist 
rule." 


88  THE  MIGHTY  A  TO  AT. 

He  led  the  way  across  the  central  aisle, — Lionel 
followed,  interested  and  curious,  thinking  mean- 
while that  this  handsome  white-haired  verger  could 
not  exactly  be  called  a  stupid  man,  or  even  a  "  semi- 
barbarian," — he  was  decidedly  intelligent,  and  seemed 
to  know  something  about  the  facts  of  history. 

"There's  an  old  door  fur  ye!"  he  said,  with 
almost  an  air  of  triumph  as  he  paused  on  the  vestry 
threshold  and  rapped  his  ringers  lightly  on  the  thick 
oak  panels  of  the  ancient  portal — "  That's  older 
than  anything  in  the  church — I  shouldn't  a  bit 
wonder  if  it  came  out  o'  some  sacred  place  o'  Nor- 
man worship, — it  looks  like  it.  An'  here's  th'  old 
key" — and  he  held  up  a  quaint  and  heavy  iron  im- 
plement that  looked  more  like  a  screw-driver  with  a 
cross  handle  than  anything  else, — "  An'  here's  Peter's 
little  money-box," — showing  a  ponderous  oak  chest 
some  five  feet  long  and  three  high — "  that  'ud  'old  a 
rare  sight  o'  pennies,  wouldn't  it !  Now  don't  you 
two  chillern  go  a-tryin'  to  lift  the  lid,  for  it's  mortal 
'eavy,  an'  it  'ud  crush  your  little  'ans  to  pulp  in 
a  minnit.  I'll  let  ye  see  the  inside  o't, — there 
y'are !" 

And  with  a  powerful  effort  of  his  sinewy  arms  he 
threw  it  open,  disclosing  its  black  worm-eaten  in- 
terior, with  a  few  old  bits  of  tarnished  silver  lying 
at  the  bottom,  the  fragments  of  a  long  disused  Com- 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  89 

munion-service.  Lionel  and  Jessamine  peered  down 
at  these  with  immense  inquisitiveness. 

"  Lor'  bless  me !"  said  Reuben,  then,  laughing  a 
little, — "  There's  a  deal  of  wot  I  calls  silly  faith 
left  in  some  o'  they  good  Papist  folk  still.  There 
wos  a  nice  ole  leddy  cam'  'ere  last  summer,  an'  she 
believed  that  Peter  hisself  cam'  down  from  Heaven 
o'  nights,  an'  tuk  all  the  money  offered  'im,  specially 
pennies,  fur  they'se  the  coins  chiefly  mentioned  i*  th' 
Testament,  an'  she  axed  me  to  let  'er  put  a  penny  in, 
— I  s'pose  she  thought  the  saint  might  be  in  want 
o't.  '  For,  my  good  man,'  sez  she  to  me,  '  'ave  you 
never  'eerd  that  St.  Peter  still  visits  th'  world,  an' 
when  he  cooms  down  'ere  it  may  be  he  might  need 
this  penny  o'  mine  to  buy  bread.'  '  Do  as  ye  like 
marm/  sez  I, — '  it  don't  make  no  difference  to  me, 
I'm  sure !'  Well,  she  put  the  penny  in,  bless  'er 
'art ! — an'  this  Christmas  past  I  was  a-cleanin'  an* 
rubbin'  up  everything  i'  th'  church,  an'  in  dustin' 
out  this  'ere  box  there  I  saw  that  penny, — St.  Peter 
'adn't  come  arter  it.  So  /  just  tuk  it!"  and  he 
chuckled  softly — "  I  tuk  it  an'  giv'  it  to  a  poor  ole 
beggar-man  outside  the  church-gate,  so  I  played 
Peter  fur  once  i'  my  life,  an'  not  s'  badly  I  'ope  but 
wot  I  shall  be  furgiven  !" 

The  smile  deepened  at  the  corners  of  his  mouth 
and  sparkled  in  his  fine  eyes  as  he  shut  the  great 

8* 


9o 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 


coffer,  and  stood  up  in  all  his  manly  height  and 
breadth,  surveying  the  two  small  creatures  beside 
him. 

"Well,  do  'ee  like  th'  old  church,  little  zur?"  he 
asked  of  Lionel,  whose  face  expressed  an  intense 
and  melancholy  gravity. 

"  Indeed  I  do  !"  answered  the  boy — "  But  I  think 
I  like  the  music  even  better, — listen !  What  is 
that?"  And  he  held  up  one  hand  with  a  gesture 
of  rapt  attention. 

"That's  the  hymn  we  allus  sings  on  Harvest 
Thanksgiving  Sunday, — 

" '  Holy,  Holy,  Holy,  Lord  God  Almighty, 

Early  in  the  morning  our  song  shall  rise  to  Thee,'  " 

replied  Reuben — "  It's  a  rare  fine  tune,  an'  fills  th' 
heart  as  well  as  th'  voice.  Now  little  'uns  coom 
'ome  to  dinner!" 

They  passed  out  of  the  church  into  the  warm 
sunlit  air,  fragrant  with  the  scent  of  roses,  sweet- 
briar  and  wild  thyme,  and  drowsy  with  the  hum 
of  honey-seeking  bees,  Reuben  Dale  calling  Lionel's 
attention  as  he  went  to  a  great  iron  ring  which  was 
attached  to  the  ancient  door  of  entrance. 

"  Could  'ee  tell  me  wot  that  ring's  there  for  ?"  he 
demanded. 

Lionel  shook  his  head. 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  91 

"  Well,  ye  must  ha'  read  in  yer  hist'ry  books 
'bout  sanctuary  privilege,"  said  Reuben — "When 
any  poor  wretched  thief  or  mis'rable  sinner  wos 
bein'  a-hunted  through  the  country  by  all  the 
townspeople  an'  officers  o'  justice  'e  'ad  but  to 
make  straight  for  th'  church-door  an'  ketch  'old 
of  a  ring  like  this  an'  'e  was  safe.  It  wos  '  sanc- 
tuary'— an'  no  one  dussn't  lay  a  finger  on  'im. 
'Twos  a  rare  Christian  custom, — it  wos  a'most  as 
if  'e  'ad  laid  'old  of  our  dear  Saviour's  garment 
an'  found  the  mercy  as  wos  never  denied  by  Him 
to  the  weakest  and  wretchedest  among  us,"  con- 
cluded Reuben,  piously,  raising  his  cap  as  he  spoke 
and  looking  up  at  the  bright  sky  with  a  rapt  ex- 
pression, as  though  he  saw  an  angel  of  protection 
there — "  An'  that's  the  meaning  o'  th'  iron  ring." 

Lionel  said  nothing,  but  his  thoughts  were  very 
busy.  He  was  only  a  small  boy,  but  his  store  of 
purely  scientific  information  was  great,  and  yet  he 
knew  not  whether  to  pity  or  envy  this  "  semi- 
barbarian"  for  his  simple  beliefs.  "  I  should  not 
like  to  tell  him  that  all  the  clever  men  nowadays 
say  that  Christ  is  a  myth" — he  considered,  seriously 
— "  I  am  sure  it  would  vex  him." 

So  he  walked  on  soberly  silent,  holding  the  hand 
of  the  little  Jessamine  who  was  equally  mute,  and 
Reuben  led  the  way  out  of  the  churchyard,  across 


92  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

the  high  road,  and  up  a  narrow  street  full  of  old- 
fashioned,  gable-windowed,  crookedly-built  houses 
which  at  first  sight  appeared  to  lean  over  one 
another  in  a  curiously  lop-sided  helpless  way,  as 
though  lacking  proper  foundation  and  support.  At 
one  of  these,  standing  by  itself  in  a  little  patch  of 
neatly  trimmed  garden,  and  covered  with  clusters  of 
full-flowering  jessamine  and  wistaria,  Dale  stopped 
and  rapped  on  the  door  with  his  knuckles.  It  was 
opened  at  once  by  a  clean,  mild-featured  elderly 
dame  in  a  particularly  large  white  apron,  who  opened 
her  lack-lustre  yet  kindly  eyes  in  great  astonishment 
at  the  sight  of  Lionel. 

"Auntie  Kate!  Auntie  Kate!"  exclaimed  Jessa- 
mine, eagerly — "  This  be  a  little  gemmun  boy, — 
nice  an'  prutty  'e  be ! — we'se  been  playin'  babes  i' 
th'  wood  an'  Drojun  wors  all  th'  mornin'  an'  we'se 
going'  to  'ave  our  dinner  an'  see  my  ole  'oss  arter- 
wards !" 

Auntie  Kate  did  her  best  to  understand  this  bril- 
liant explanation  on  the  part  of  her  small  niece,  but 
failing  to  entirely  grasp  its  meaning,  looked  to  Reu- 
ben for  further  enlightenment. 

"  This  is  Master  Valliscourt,"  said  the  verger, 
then — "  The  little  son  o'  the  gemmun  wot  'as  took 
the  big  'ouse  yonder  for  summer.  He's  bin  fagged- 
like  wi's  lessons,  an'  'e's  just  out  on  the  truant,  as 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  93 

boys  will  be  at  times  when  they've  got  any  boyhood 
in  'em ; — giv'  'im  a  bit  an'  a  sup  wi'  us,  Kitty,  an'  'e'll 
play  a  while  longer  wi'  Jessamine  'fore  'e  goes 
'ome." 

Auntie  Kate  nodded  and  smiled,  then,  in  defer- 
ence to  "  Master  Valliscourt,"  curtseyed. 

"  Coom  in,  sir ! — coom  in,  an'  right  welcome  !" 
said  she — "  Sit  'ee  down  an'  make  'eeself  comfort- 
able. Dinner's  ready,  an'  there's  naught  to  wait 
for  but  jest  to  let  Reuben  wash  'is  'ands  an'  ask  a 
blessin.'  Now  my  Jessamine  girl,  take  off  your 
bonnit  an'  sit  down  prutty !" 

Jessamine  obeyed,  dragging  off  the  becoming 
white  sun-bonnet  in  such  haste  that  she  nearly  tore 
one  of  her  own  brown  curls  away  with  it.  Lionel 
uttered  an  exclamation  of  pain  at  the  sight,  and 
went  to  detach  the  rebellious  tress  from  the  string 
with  which  it  had  become  knotted.  He  succeeded 
in  his  effort,  and  when  the  bonnet  was  fairly  taken 
off,  he  thought  the  little  maid  looked  prettier  than 
ever  with  her  rough  tumbled  locks  falling  about 
her  and  her  rosy  face  like  a  blossom  in  the  midst 
of  the  chestnut  tangle.  Throwing  off  his  own  cap 
he  sat  down  beside  her  at  the  table,  which  was 
covered  with  a  coarse  but  clean  cloth,  and  garnished 
with  black-handled  steel  forks  and  spoons,  and  so 
waited  patiently  till  Reuben  came  in  from  the  wash- 


94 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 


ing  of  his  hands,  which  he  did  very  speedily.  Auntie 
Kate  then  lifted  off  the  fire  a  black  pot,  steaming 
with  savoury  odours,  and  poured  out  into  a  capa- 
cious blue  dish  a  mixture  of  meat  and  vegetables, — 
(more  vegetables  than  meat)  and  set  round  plates 
to  match  the  dish.  Reuben  stood  up  and  bowed 
his  head  reverently ;  "  For  what  we  are  going  to  re- 
ceive may  the  Lord  make  us  truly  thankful !"  said 
he,  and  Jessamine's  sweet  little  cooing  voice  an- 
swered, "  Amen  !"  Whereupon  they  began  the  meal, 
which  though  so  poor  and  plain  was  good  and 
wholesome.  Auntie  Kate  was  no  mean  cook,  and 
she  was  famous  in  the  village  for  a  certain  make  of 
"  pear  cordial,"  a  glass  of  which  she  poured  out  for 
Lionel,  curtseying  as  she  did  so,  and  requested  him 
to  taste  it.  He  found  it  delicious ;  and  he  likewise 
discovered,  to  his  own  surprise,  that  he  had  an  appe- 
tite. It  was  very  remarkable,  he  thought,  that  Reu- 
ben Dale's  frugal  fare  should  have  a  better  flavour 
than  anything  he  had  ever  had  at  his  father's  luxuri- 
ously appointed  table.  He  did  not  realise  that  the 
respite  from  study,  the  temporary  liberty  he  was  en- 
joying, and  the  romp  with  Jessamine  had  all  given 
room  for  his  physical  nature  to  breathe  and  expand, 
and  a  sense  of  the  actual  pleasure  of  life  when  lived 
healthily  had  roused  his  exhausted  faculties  to  new 
and  delightful  vigour.  With  this  momentary  de- 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  95 

velopment  of  natural  youthful  energy  had  come 
the  appetite  he  wondered  at,  when  the  simplest  food 
seemed  exquisite  and  Auntie  Kate's  "  pear  cordial" 
suggested  the  ambrosial  nectar  quaffed  by  the  gods 
of  Olympus.  The  dinner  over,  Reuben  Dale  again 
stood  up  and  said,  "  For  what  we  have  received  may 
the  Lord  make  us  truly  thankful !"  and  once  more 
his  little  girl  responded  demurely,  "  Amen  !"  Then 
he  proceeded  to  fill  and  smoke  a  pipe  before  re- 
turning to  the  churchyard  to  complete  the  digging 
of  "  Mother  Twiley's"  last  resting-place,  and  Jessa- 
mine, still  wearing  the  "  pinny"  her  aunt  had  tied 
round  her  while  she  ate  her  dinner,  seized  Lionel  by 
the  hand  and  dragged  him  off  to  the  "  back  yard," 
which  was  half  garden,  half  shed,  where  Reuben 
kept  his  tools,  and  where  a  couple  of  smart  bantams 
with  their  clucking  little  harem  of  prettily-feathered 
wives  and  favourites,  strutted  about  behind  a  wire 
netting  and  imagined  themselves  the  rulers  of  the 
planet. 

"  Coom  an'  see  my  ole  'oss !"  said  Jessamine,  ex- 
citedly— "  Such  a  good  ole  'oss  'e  be !  'Ere  'e  is ! — 
a-hidin'  behin*  th*  wall !  See  'im  ?  O  my  bee — oo 
— ful  old  'oss  !" 

And  she  threw  her  arms  round  the  neck  of  the 
quadruped  in  question,  which  was  nothing  else  but  a 
battered  wooden  toy  that  had  evidently  once  been  a 


96  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

gallant  steed  on  "  rockers,"  but  which  now,  without 
either  mane,  tail,  or  eyes,  and  with  only  three  shaky 
legs  and  a  stump  of  wood  to  support  it,  presented  a 
very  sorry  spectacle  indeed.  But  to  Jessamine  this 
"  ole  'oss"  was  apparently  the  flower  of  all  creation, 
for  she  hugged  it  and  kissed  its  pale  nose,  from 
which  the  paint  had  long  since  been  washed  off  by 
wind  and  weather,  with  quite  a  passionate  ar- 
dour. 

"  Oh,  my  dee1  ole  'oss  !"  she  murmured,  tenderly, 
patting  its  hairless  neck, — "  Do  'ee  know  why  I  loves 
'ee  ?  'Cos  'ee's  poor  an'  ole,  an'  no  one  wants  to 
ride  'ee  now  but  Jessamine !  Jessamine  can  get  on 
'ee's  poor  ole  back  wizout  'urtin'  of  'ee,  good  ole 
'oss!  Kiss  'im,  won't  'ee?"  she  added,  turning  to 
Lionel,  "Do  'ee  kiss  'im ! — it  makes  'im  feel  comfort- 
abler  now  'e's  poor  an'  ole !" 

Who  could  resist  such  an  appeal !  Who  would 
refuse  to  embrace  a  superannuated  wooden  rocking- 
horse,  described  with  so  much  sweetly  pitiful  fervour 
as  "  poor  an'  ole"  and  therefore  in  need  of  affection- 
ate consolement !  Not  Lionel, — despite  the  many 
learned  books  he  had  studied,  he  fully  entered  into 
the  spirit  of  all  this  childish  nonsense,  and  bending 
over  the  dilapidated  toy,  he  kissed  its  wan  nose  with 
ardour  in  his  turn. 

"  That's   right !"    cried    Jessamine,  clapping    her 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  97 

hands,  delightedly — "  Now  'e  feels  'appy !  Now  'e'll 
give  us  a  ride  !" 

And  forthwith  she  clambered  up  on  the  gaunt  and 
worn  back  of  her  beloved  steed,  showing  a  pair  of 
little  innocent-looking  white  legs  as  she  did  so,  and 
jerked  herself  up  and  down  to  imitate  a  gallop. 

"  Ain't  'e  goin'  well !"  she  exclaimed,  breathlessly, 
— her  hair  blowing  in  a  golden-brown  tangle  behind 
her  and  her  cheeks  becoming  rosier  than  the  rosiest 
apples  with  her  exertions,  while  the  laughter  in  her 
pretty  eyes  rivalled  the  brightness  of  the  sunlight 
playing  round  her — "  Oh,  'e  be  a  rare  nice  ole  'oss ! 
Now,  Lylie,  'ee  must  git  up  an'  'ave  a  ride !" 

Lionel  started  at  the  sound  of  his  mother's  pet 
name  for  him, — then  he  remembered  he  had  told 
it  to  Jessamine,  and  smiled  as  he  thought  how 
sweet  it  sounded  from  her  lips.  And  he  answered 
gently  — 

"  I'm  afraid  I'm  too  big,  dear !  Your  horse 
couldn't  carry  me, — I  might  hurt  him." 

"O  no,  'ee  won't  'urt  'im !"  declared  Jessamine, 
springing  lightly  to  the  ground — "  Try  an'  git  on 
'im  ! — I'se  sure  'e'll  be  good  t'ye!" 

Thus   adjured,    Lionel   threw   a    leg    across    the 

passive  toy,  and  pretended  to  ride  at  full  gallop  as 

Jessamine   had  done,  much    to  the  little   maiden's 

delight.      She    danced    about    and    shrieked    with 

E      g  9 


9 8  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

ecstasy,  till  the  bantams  behind  the  wire  netting 
evidently  thought  the  end  of  the  world  had  come, 
for  they  ran  to  and  fro  clucking  in  the  wildest  ex- 
citement, no  doubt  imploring  their  special  deities  to 
protect  them  from  the  terrible  human  thing  that 
showed  its  white  legs  and  danced  in  the  sun  almost 
as  if  it  had  as  good  a  right  to  live  as  a  well-bred 
fowl.  Reuben  Dale,  hearing  the  uproar  and  having 
finished  his  pipe,  came  out  to  see  what  was  going 
on,  and  laughed  almost  as  much  as  the  children  did, 
now  and  then  playfully  urging  the  wooden  steed  to 
a  wilder  exhibition  of  its  "  mettle"  by  a  stentorian 
"Gee-up,  Dobbin!"  which  rather  added  to  the  general 
hilarity  of  the  scene.  When  the  game  was  quite 
over,  and  Lionel,  flushed  and  full  of  merriment,  re- 
signed the  "  ole  'oss"  to  Jessamine,  who  at  once 
offered  it  a  handful  of  hay  and  whispered  tender 
nothings  in  its  broken  ear,  the  verger  said, — 

"  Now,  my  little  zur,  I'm  a-goin'  back  to  my 
work  i'  th'  churchyard,  for  I  must  finish  Mother 
Twiley's  bed  'fore  nightfall.  Ye'll  find  me  there  if 
ye'se  want  me.  If  s'be  ye  care  to  stay  on  wi'  Jessa- 
mine a  bit  ye  can, — she's  a  lonesome  little  un'  since 
'er  mother  went  to  God, — an'  mebbe  you're  lone- 
some too, — a  little  play  '11  do  neither  o'  ye  'arm,  an' 
Auntie  Kate's  i'  th'  'ouse  all  day  an'  she'll  look  arter 
ye.  But  ye  mustn't  be  away  too  long  from  yer 


THE  MIGHTY  A  TOM.  99 

feyther  an'  mother, — ye  must  git  'ome  'fore  the  sun 
sets,  my  lad, — promise  me  that !" 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Dale,  I  promise  : — and  thank  you  !"  re- 
sponded Lionel,  eagerly — "  I've  had  such  a  happy 
time ! — you  don't  know  how  happy  !  I  may  come 
again  some  day  and  see  you  and  Jessamine,  mayn't 
I?" 

"  Why  sartin  zure  ye  may  !"  said  Reuben,  heartily, 
"  Purvidin'  they  makes  no  objections  at  your  own 
'ome,  little  zur, — ye  must  make  that  clear  an'  straight 
fust." 

"  Oh,  yes  !  of  course  !"  murmured  the  boy, — but 
a  shadow  clouded  his  hitherto  bright  face.  He  knew 
well  enough  that  if  his  father  were  asked  about  it, 
not  only  the  acquaintance  but  also  the  very  sight  of 
the  kindly  verger  and  his  pretty  child  would  be  alto- 
gether forbidden  him.  However,  he  said  nothing  of 
this,  and  Reuben,  after  a  few  more  cheery  words, 
strode  off  to  the  resumption  of  his  labours.  With 
his  departure  a  silence  fell  on  the  two  little  creatures 
left  alone  together;  the  excitement  engendered  by 
the  "  ole  'oss  "  had  its  reaction,  and  Jessamine  grew 
serious,  even  sad. 

"\fink  I  wants  my  sun-bonnet,"  she  remarked  in 
an  injured  tone — "  My  facie  burns." 

Lionel  ran  into  the  house  at  once  and  obtained 
the  desired  head-gear  from  Auntie  Kate,  whereupon 


100  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

Miss  Jessamine  adjusted  it  sideways  and  peered  at 
him  in  a  sudden  fit  of  shyness. 

"  'Specs  'ee'd  better  go  'ome  now,"  she  said,  se- 
verely— "  You'se  tired  of  me  an'  my  ole  'oss, — I  sees 
you'se  tired !" 

"Tired,  Jessamine!  Indeed  I'm  not  tired, — I'll 
play  with  you  ever  so  long ! — as  long  as  you  like. 
What  shall  we  do  now  ?" 

"Nuffink!"  replied  the  little  lady,  putting  the 
string  of  her  bonnet  in  her  mouth,  which  was  a  fa- 
vourite habit  of  hers,  and  still  regarding  him  with  an 
odd  mixture  of  coyness  and  affection ; — then,  with 
sudden  and  almost  defiant  energy,  she  added,  "  I 
knows  you'se  tired  of  me,  Lylie !" 

"  Now,  Jessamine  dear  /"  expostulated  Lionel,  with 
quite  a  lover-like  ardour,  as  he  saw  that  the  tiny 
maiden  was  inclined  to  be  petulant — "  Come  and  sit 
under  that  beautiful  big  apple-tree  !" 

"  My  big  apple-tree !"  put  in  Jessamine,  with  an 
air  of  grave  correction — "  That's  my  tree,  Lylie !" 

"  That's  why  it's  such  a  nice  one,"  declared  Li- 
onel, gallantly,  taking  her  little  hand  in  his  own — 
"  Come  along  and  let  us  sit  there,  and  you'll  tell  me 
another  story,  or  I'll  tell  you  one.  You  know  I'm 
going  away  very  soon  and  perhaps  I  shall  never  see 
you  again." 

He  sighed  quite  unconsciously  as  he  said  this,  and 


THE  MIG PITY  ATOM.  ioi 

Jessamine  looked  up  at  him  with  eyes  that  were  an- 
gelically lovely  in  their  momentary  gravity. 

"  Will  'ee  be  sorry  ?"  she  asked. 

"  Very  sorry  ?"  he  answered — "  Dreadfully  sorry  !" 

Jessamine's  doubtful  humour  passed  at  this  assur- 
ance, and  she  allowed  him  to  lead  her  unresist- 
ingly to  the  big  apple-tree,  which  was  the  chief  orna- 
ment of  Reuben  Dale's  back  garden, — her  tree, 
against  whose  gnarled  trunk  a  rough  wooden  seat 
was  set  for  shelter  and  repose. 

"  I'll  be  sorry,  too  !"  she  confessed — "  'Specs  I'll 
ky  when  you'se  gone,  Lylie  !" 

There  was  something  touching  in  this  remark,  or 
they  found  it  so, — and  a  deep  silence  followed. 
They  sat  down  side  by  side,  under  the  spreading 
apple-boughs  laden  with  ruddy  fruit  that  shone  with 
a  bright  polish  in  the  hot  glow  of  the  afternoon  sun, 
and  holding  each  other's  hands,  were  very  quiet, 
while  round  and  round  them  flew  butterflies  and 
bees,  all  intent  on  business  or  love-making,  and  a 
linnet,  who  had  just  cooled  his  throat  at  the  bantams' 
water-trough,  alighted  on  an  opposite  twig  and  es- 
sayed a  soft  cadenza.  There  were  a  thousand  sweet 
suggestions  in  the  warm  air, — too  subtle  for  the 
young  things  who  sat  so  demurely  together,  hand  in 
hand,  to  perceive  or  comprehend ; — the  beautiful 
things  of  God  and  Nature,  which  wordlessly  teach 


102  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

the  eternal  though  unheeded  lesson  that  happiness 
and  good  are  the  chief  designs  and  ultimate  ends  of 
all  creation,  and  that  only  Man's  perverted  will, 
working  for  solely  selfish  purposes,  makes  havoc  of 
all  that  should  be  pure  and  fair.  Yet  even  children 
have  certain  meditative  moments  when  they  are 
vaguely  conscious  of  some  great  Beneficence  ruling 
their  destinies, — and  some  of  them  have  been  known 
at  a  very  early  age  to  express  the  wonder  as  to  why 
God  should  be  so  good  and  their  own  parents  so 
bad! 

"  What  will  'ee  do  when  'ee  gits  'ome  ?"  inquired 
Jessamine,  presently — "  Will  'ee  ky  ?" 

Lionel  smiled  rather  bitterly.  "  No,  Jessamine,  it 
would  never  do  for  me  to  cry,"  he  said — "  I'm  too 
big." 

"  Too  big !"  she  echoed — "  You'se  onny  a  weeny 
bit  bigger  'n  me!  An'  I'se  little." 

"  Yes,  but  you're  a  girl,"  said  Lionel — "  Girls 
can  cry  if  they  like, — but  boys  mustn't.  I  do  cry 
sometimes  though,  when  I'm  all  by  myself." 

"  I  seed  'ee  ky  to-day,"  observed  Jessamine, 
gravely — "  I'  th'  church, — jest  'fore  we  came  'ome  to 
dinner.  What  did  'ee  ky  then  for  ?" 

"  It  was  the  music,  I  think,"  answered  Lionel, 
with  a  far-away  look  in  his  deep-set  eyes — "  I'm  very 
fond  of  music,  but  it  always  seems  sad  to  me.  My 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 


103 


mother  sings  beautifully,  but  somehow  I  can  never 
bear  to  hear  her  sing, — it  makes  me  feel  so 
lonely." 

Jessamine  gazed  at  him  sympathetically.  He  was 
surely  a  very  strange  and  funny  boy  to  feel  "  lonely" 
because  his  mother  sang.  Presently  she  essayed 
another  topic. 

"  I  knows  th'  big  'ouse  where  'ee  lives,"  she  an- 
nounced— "  There's  a  'ole  in  th'  edge,  an'  I  can  creep 
froo, — into  th'  big  garden !  I'll  coom  an'  see  'oor 
muzzer!" 

This  statement  of  her  intentions  rather  startled 
Lionel.  He  looked  earnestly  into  her  sweet  blue 
eyes. 

"  You  mustn't  do  that,  Jessamine,  dear  !"  he  said, 
sadly — "You  would  get  scolded,  I'm  afraid.  My 
mother  would  not  scold  you, — but  I  expect  my 
father  would." 

Jessamine  put  a  finger  into  her  mouth  and  sucked 
it  solemnly  for  a  minute, — then  spoke  with  slightly 
offended  dignity. 

"  'Oor  feyther's  a  bad  ole  man !"  she  said,  calmly 
— "  Onny  a  bad  ole  man  would  scold  me,  'cos  I  allus 
tries  to  be  good.  My  feyther  never  scolds  me,  nor 
my  ole  'oss  neither." 

Lionel  was  silent.     She  cuddled  closer  to  him. 

"  I  muss    see    'ee    'gain,    Lylie !"     she    crooned, 


104  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

plaintively  —  "Doesn't  'ee  want  to  see  me  no 
more?" 

Her  baby  voice  was  inexpressibly  sweet  as  she 
pathetically  asked  this  question,  and  Lionel,  un- 
accustomed as  he  was  to  any  kind  of  affectionate 
demonstration,  felt  a  strange  beating  of  his  young 
heart  as  he  looked  down  at  the  small  child-face  that 
was  turned  so  wistfully  towards  him. 

"  Yes,  dear,  dear  little  Jessamine,  I  do  want  to 
see  you  again,  and  I  ivill  see  you, — I'll  come  as 
often  as  ever  I  can !"  and  daring  thoughts  of 
shirking  his  tasks  and  eluding  Professor  Cadman- 
Gore's  eye,  flitted  through  his  brain,  in  the  same 
way  as  the  scaling  of  walls  and  the  ascending  of 
fortified  towers  have  suggested  themselves  to  more 
mature  adventurers  as  worthy  deeds  to  be  accom- 
plished in  the  pursuit  of  the  fair.  "  I'll  come  and 
play  with  you  whenever  I  can  get  away  from  my 
lessons, — I  promise !" 

"  'Iss, — do!"  said  Jessamine,  coaxingly — "'Cos 
I  likes  'ee,  Lylie, — I  doesn't  like  any  other  boys  'ere, 
— they'se  all  oogly.  You'se  prutty, — an' — an'  \  fink 
I'se  prutty  too ! — sometimes  !" 

Oh,  small  witch !  That  "  sometimes"  was  the 
very  essence  of  delicate  coquetry,  and  accompanied, 
as  it  was,  by  a  little  smile  and  arch  upward  twinkle 
of  the  blue  eyes,  was  irresistibly  fascinating.  Lionel 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  105 

felt,  though  he  knew  not  why,  that  this  little  damsel 
must  be  kissed, — kissing  seemed  imperative, — yet 
how  was  it  to  be  done  ? 

"  You  are  very  pretty,  Jessamine,  dear,"  he  said, 
with  a  winsome  mingling  of  boldness  and  timidity 
— "You  are  just  as  pretty  as  a  flower!"  Jessamine 
nodded  in  serene  self-complacency,  while  her  youth- 
ful admirer  peered  at  her  close-curved  red  lips  much 
as  a  bird  might  look  at  a  ripe  cherry  and  was  silent 
so  long  that  at  last  she  gazed  straight  up  into  his 
eyes,  the  heavenly  blue  of  her  own  shining  with  a 
beautiful  wonder. 

"  What's  'ee  thinkin'  'bout,  Lylie  ?"  she  asked. 

"  You,  Jessamine  !"  the  boy  answered,  tenderly, — 
"  I  was  thinking  about  you, — and  the  flowers." 

And  bending  down  his  curly  head  he  kissed  her, 
— and  the  little  maiden,  nestling  closer,  kissed  him 
innocently  back  again.  Overhead  the  fragrant  apple- 
branches  swung  their  sweet  burden  of  ruddy  fruit 
and  green  leaf  to  and  fro  with  a  soft  rustle  in  the 
summer  breeze,  and  the  linnet  who  lived  in  the  top- 
most bough  carolled  his  unpretentious  little  song, 
and  the  fairness  of  the  world  as  God  made  it,  seemed 
to  surround  with  an  enchanted  atmosphere  the  two 
children  who,  drawn  thus  together  by  the  bond  of  a 
summer-day's  comradeship  and  affection,  were  happy 
as  they  never  would  be  again.  For  the  world  as  God 


106  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

made  it  is  one  thing, — but  the  world  as  Man  mars  it 
is  another, — and  life  for  all  the  little  feet  that  are  to 
trudge  wearily  after  us  in  the  hard  paths  which  we 
in  our  arrogant  egoist-generation,  have  strewn  for 
them  so  thick  with  stones  and  thorns,  offers  such  a 
bitter  and  cruel  prospect,  that  it  is  almost  a  matter 
of  thanksgiving  when  the  great  Angel  of  Death, 
moved  perchance  by  a  vast  pity,  gently  releases 
some  of  the  fairest  and  tenderest  of  our  children 
from  our  merciless  clutches,  and  restores  them  to 
that  Divine  Master  and  Lover  of  pure  souls  who 
said — "  Take  heed  that  ye  despise  not  one  of  these 
little  ones,  for  I  say  unto  you  that  in  heaven  their 
angels  do  always  behold  the  face  of  My  Father." 

NOTE. — The  description  of  Combmartin  Church  in  these  pages  is 
given  as  nearly  as  possible  in  the  words  of  the  verger,  one  James 
Norman,  (may  he  long  enjoy  his  cheerful,  manly,  and  contented 
life!)  who,  all  unconsciously,  "sat"  to  the  author  last  summer  for 
the  portrait  of  "  Reuben  Dale." 


CHAPTER    VI. 

THE  sun  was  well-nigh  upon  sinking,  when  Lionel, 
walking  slowly  and  with  reluctant  steps,  returned  to 
his  home.  As  he  approached  the  house  he  saw  his 
mother  at  the  entrance  gate,  apparently  waiting  for 
him.  Looking  at  her  from  a  little  distance  he 
thought  how  very  beautiful  she  was, — more  beauti- 
ful than  ever  he  had  quite  realised  her  to  be.  Her 
rich  hair  shone  in  the  brilliant  sun-glow  with  won- 
derful golden  glints  and  ripples,  and  her  eyes  were 
lustrous  with  a  dreamy  tenderness  which  softened 
and  grew  deeper  as  he  came  up  to  where  she  stood. 
She  stretched  out  her  hand  to  him, — a  delicate  little 
hand,  white  as  a  white  rose-petal  and  sparkling  with 
the  rare  diamond  rings  that  adorned  the  taper  fingers. 

"  Why,  Lylie,  where  have  you  been  all  day  ?"  she 
asked,  gently — "  Your  father's  very  angry ;  he  has 
been  searching  for  you  everywhere  and  making  all 
sorts  of  inquiries  in  the  village.  Some  one  has  told 
him  that  you  were  at  the  inn  this  morning,  seeing 
Mr.  Montrose  off  by  the  early  coach,  and  that  after- 
wards you  ran  away  with  some  common  boys  to 
play  hide-and-seek  ;  is  that  true  ?" 

"  No,  mother,  it  isn't  true,"  the  boy  answered, 

107 


108  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

quietly — "not  altogether.  I  did  go  to  see  Mr. 
Montrose  off  by  coach, — that's  correct  enough  ;  but 
I  never  ran  away  to  play  hide-and-seek  with  any 
common  boys, — if  I  had  wanted  to  they  wouldn't 
have  had  me,  I  daresay.  I  don't  play  games ;  you 
know  that ;  there's  no  one  to  play  them  with  me.  I 
fancied  I  would  like  to  stroll  about  all  by  myself, — I 
was  tired  of  books, — so  I  went  into  the  old  church- 
yard and  found  the  sexton  there  at  work  digging  a 
grave,  and  he  is  such  a  nice  old  man  that  I  stayed 
there  and  talked  to  him.  Then  his  little  girl  came 
to  bring  him  his  coffee,  and  I  went  with  her  inside 
the  church,  and  Mr.  Dale — that's  the  sexton — 
showed  me  all  over  it  and  explained  all  the  old 
historical  bits, — and  then  he  asked  me  to  his  house 
to  dinner.  I  thought  it  very  kind  of  him,  and  I  was 
pleased  to  go.  I've  just  come  from  there,  and  that's 
the  truth,  mother,  exactly  as  it  happened." 

Mrs.  Valliscourt  slipped  her  arm  round  his  neck. 
She  was  smiling  to  herself  rather  oddly. 

"  Poor  Lylie  !"  she  said,  caressingly — "  So  you 
were  really  tired,  were  you,  and  determined  to  have 
a  real  good  time  for  once  in  your  own  way  ?  Well, 
I  don't  blame  you  !  I  should  do  the  same  if  I  were 
in  your  place.  But  your  father's  in  a  great  rage, — 
he  wanted  you  to  be  here  to  receive  Professor  Cad- 
man-Gore " 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  109 

"  But,  mother,  he's  not  expected  till  ten  o'clock  to- 
night !"  exclaimed  Lionel. 

"  I  know, — that's  the  time  we  thought  he  was 
coming.  But  he's  got  rheumatism  or  lumbago  or 
something  of  that  sort,  and  decided  at  the  last 
minute  that  it  would  be  best  for  him  to  arrive  in 
daytime  and  avoid  the  night  air.  So  he  took  an 
earlier  train  from  London  and  caught  the  afternoon 
coach  from  Ilfracombe,  and  he's  here, — in  fact,  he 
has  been  here  nearly  two  hours  shut  up  with  your 
father  in  his  room." 

Lionel  was  silent  for  a  minute  or  two, — then  he 
asked, — 

"  What's  he  like,  mother  ?     Have  you  seen  him  ?" 

Mrs.  Valliscourt  laughed  a  little. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I've  seen  him.  He  was  formally  intro- 
duced to  me  on  arrival.  What's  he  like? — well,  I 
really  don't  know  what  he's  like, — he's  a  cross  be- 
tween a  veiy  old  baboon  and  a  camel, — rather  a 
difficult  animal  to  define!" 

Her  flashing  smile  irradiated  her  whole  counte- 
nance with  a  gleam  of  scorn  as  well  as  amusement, — 
Lionel,  however,  looked  pained  and  puzzled.  She 
gave  him  a  little  side-glance  of  infinite  compassion, 
and  suddenly  drawing  his  head  against  her  breast, 
kissed  him.  Any  caress  or  sign  of  affection  from 
her  was  so  rare  a  thing  that  the  sensitive  little  lad 

10 


HO  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

actually  trembled  and  grew  pale  with  the  emotion  it 
excited  in  him, — it  left  him  almost  breathless,  and 
too  astonished  to  speak. 

"  I  mean,  dear,"  she  continued,  still  keeping  her 
arm  about  him, — "that  he  is  just  like  all  those  won- 
derfully learned  old  men  who  have  ceased  to  care 
about  anything  but  themselves  and  books, — they  are 
never  by  any  chance  handsome,  you  know.  He's 
very  clever,  though, — your  father  thinks  him  a  pro- 
digy, and  so,  I  believe,  do  all  the  Oxford  and  Cam- 
bridge dons, — and  now  he's  here  you'll  have  to 
make  the  best  of  him,  Lylie !" 

"  Yes,  mother."  The  answer  came  faintly,  and 
with  a  smothered  sigh.  Then — after  a  brief  pause 
— Lionel  took  the  white  hand  that  rested  against  his 
neck,  kissed  it,  and  gently  put  it  aside. 

"  I  think  I'd  better  go  straight  in  to  father  at  once 
and  tell  him  where  I've  been,"  he  said,  bravely — 
"  Then  it's  over  and  done  with.  No  matter  how 
angry  he  is  he  can't  kill  me, — and  if  he  could  it 
would  be  worse  for  him  than  for  me !" 

With  this  unanswerable  piece  of  cynical  logic 
and  a  wistful  parting  smile,  he  quickened  his  steps 
almost  to  a  run  and  went  into  the  house.  Mrs. 
Valliscourt  stood  still  on  the  garden-path,  idly  ruf- 
fling the  petals  of  a  rose  in  her  waistband,  and  watch- 
ing the  thin,  delicate  figure  of  her  little  son  till  he 


THE  MIGHTY  A  TOM.  1 1 1 

disappeared ; — then  she  turned  away  across  the  lawn, 
moving  vaguely  and  unseeing  where  she  went,  for 
her  eyes  were  heavy  and  blind  with  a  sudden  rush 
of  tears. 

Meanwhile  Lionel  reached  his  father's  room  and 
boldly  knocked  at  the  door. 

"  Come  in !"  cried  the  harsh  voice  he  knew  so 
well,  whereupon  he  entered. 

"  Father "  he  began. 

Mr.  Valliscourt  rose  in  his  chair,  a  stiff,  bristling- 
haired  spectre  of  wrath. 

"  So,  sir !"  he  said.  "  You  have  come  home  at 
last !  Where  have  you  been  since  the  early  hours 
of  the  morning?  And  what  business  had  you 
to  leave  this  house  at  all  without  my  permis- 
sion?" 

Lionel  looked  at  him  full  in  the  eyes  with  a 
curious  coldness.  He  was  conscious  of  a  strange 
feeling  of  contempt  for  this  red-faced  man,  splutter- 
ing with  excitement,  whose  age,  experience,  educa- 
tion, and  muscular  strength  could  help  him  to  no 
better  thing  than  the  bullying  of  a  small  boy.  It 
might  be  a  wicked  feeling, — considering  that  the 
red-faced  man  was  his  own  father, — but  wicked 
or  no,  it  existed.  And  so,  without  any  soft  or 
weak  emotion  of  regret  or  penitence,  he  replied, 
indifferently, — 


112  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

"  I  was  tired.  I  wanted  to  be  in  the  open  air  and 
rest." 

"  Rest !"  Mr.  Valliscourt's  eyes  protruded,  and  he 
put  his  hand  to  his  shirt-collar  in  evident  doubt  as 
to  whether  his  throatful  of  bubbling  rage  might  not 
burst  that  carefully-starched  halter — "  Rest !  Good 
heavens,  what  should  a  lazy  young  animal  like  you 
want  with  rest !  You  talk  as  if  you  were  an  over- 
worked bank  clerk  begging  for  an  out-of-time 
holiday!  You  are  always  resting; — while  Mr. 
Montrose  was  here  you  never  did  anything, — your 
idleness  was  a  positive  disgrace.  Do  you  think  I 
am  going  to  waste  my  money  on  giving  you  the 
best  tuition  that  can  possibly  be  procured,  to  be 
rewarded  in  this  ungrateful  manner, — this  shameful, 
abominable  manner " 

"  Is  lie  the  best  tuition  ?"  demanded  Lionel  sud- 
denly, pointing  at  a  second  personage  in  the  room 
whom  he  had  noted  at  once  on  entering  and  whom 
he  recognised  to  be  the  "  cross  between  a  baboon 
and  camel"  his  mother  had  described, — a  forbidding- 
looking  old  man  with  a  singularly  long  pallid  face 
and  sharply  angular  shoulders,  who  sat  stiffly  up- 
right in  a  chair,  regarding  him  through  a  pair  of 
very  round  spectacles.  Mr.  Valliscourt  stared,  ren- 
dered almost  speechless  by  the  levity  of  the  question. 

"  How  dare  you,  sir  ! — How  dare  you  make  such 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  113 

an  unbecoming  observation  !"  he  gasped — "  What — 
what  do  you  mean,  sir  ?" 

"  I  only  asked,"  returned  Lionel,  composedly — 
"  You  said  you  were  throwing  your  money  away 
on  the  best  tuition,  and  I  asked  if  he  was  the  best 
tuition" — again  pointing  to  the  round  spectacles 
opposite — "  I  didn't  say  he  wasn't, — I  suppose  he 
is.  But  I'm  afraid  he'll  find  me  rather  a  trouble." 

"  I'm  afraid  he  will  indeed  !"  said  Mr.  Valliscourt, 
with  cutting  severity, — then,  turning  to  the  gaunt 
individual  in  the  chair  beside  him,  he  continued — "  I 
much  regret,  Professor,  that  you  should  have  such 
an  unpromising  introduction  to  your  pupil.  My 
son — this  is  my  son — has  been  sadly  demoralised  by 
the  influence  of  the  young  man  Montrose,  but  I  trust 
not  so  completely  as  to  be  beyond  your  remedy." 

Professor  Cadman-Gore,  the  dark-lantern  of  learn- 
ing and  obscure  glory  of  University  poseurs,  slowly 
raised  his  bony  shoulders  up  to  his  long  ears  and  as 
slowly  settled  them  in  their  place  again,  this  being 
his  own  peculiar  adaptation  of  the  easy  foreign 
shrug, — then,  smiling  a  wide  and  joyless  smile,  he 
replied  in  measured  monotonous  accents, — 

"I  trust  not, — I  trust  not."  And  he  readjusted 
his  spectacles.  "  But  I  will  not  disguise  from  you, — 
or  from  myself, — that  this  is  a  bad  beginning, — very 
bad!" 

h  10* 


114  THE  MIGHTY  A  TOM. 

"  Why?"  asked  Lionel,  quickly — "  Why  is  it  a  bad 
beginning  to  rest  when  you  are  very  tired  and  want 
it  ?  Some  people  believe  that  even  God  rested  on 
the  seventh  day  of  creation,  and  that's  why  we  keep 
Sunday  still  in  spite  of  its  being  only  an  idea  and  a 
fable.  I've  taken  a  holiday  to-day,  and  I'm  sure  I 
shall  do  my  lessons  all  the  better  for  it.  I've  been 
talking  to  the  sexton  of  Combmartin  Church,  and 
I've  had  dinner  with  him, — he's  a  very  nice  old  man, 
and  very  clever  too." 

"  Clever  !  The  sexton  of  Combmartin  !"  echoed 
Mr.  Valliscourt  with  a  loud  fierce  laugh — "  Dear 
me !  What  next  shall  we  be  told,  I  wonder !  Nice 
associates  you  pick  up  for  yourself,  sir,  after  all  the 
labour  and  expense  of  your  training !  I  might  as 
well  have  kept  my  money !" 

"Why  not  begin  to  keep  it  now,  father?"  sug- 
gested Lionel,  rather  wistfully,  the  pallor  deepening 
on  his  delicate  small  face — "  It's  no  use  spending  it 
on  me, — I  know  it  isn't.  I'm  tired  out, — perhaps 
I'm  ill  too, — I  don't  know  quite  what's  the  matter 
with  me,  but  I'm  sure  I'm  not  like  other  boys.  I 
can  see  that  for  myself,  and  it  worries  me.  If  you'd 
let  me  rest  a  little  I  might  get  better." 

"  Desire  for  rest,"  remarked  Professor  Cadman- 
Gore  with  a  sardonic  grin,  "  appears  to  be  the  leading 
characteristic  of  this  young  gentleman's  disposition." 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  115 

"  Incorrigible  idleness,  you  mean !"  snapped  out 
Mr.  Valliscourt,  "  united,  as  I  now  discover,  to  my 
amazement  and  regret,  with  an  insolence  of  temper 
which  is  new  to  me.  I  must  apologise  to  you,  Pro- 
fessor, for  my  son's  extraordinary  conduct  on  this 
occasion.  Starvation  and  solitude  will  probably 
bring  him  to  his  senses  in  time  for  the  morning's 
studies.  I  may  as  well  explain  to  you  that  I  never 
use  corporal  punishment  in  the  training  of  my  son, — 
I  employ  the  mortification  of  appetite  as  the  more 
natural  means  of  discipline.  That  and  solitary  con- 
finement seem  to  me  the  best  modes  of  procedure  for 
the  coercion  of  a  refractory  and  obstinate  nature." 
The  Professor  bowed,  and,  linking  his  leathery  hands 
together,  caused  the  knuckles  to  emit  a  sharp  sound 
like  the  cracking  of  bad  walnuts.  "  Lionel,"  con- 
tinued Mr.  Valliscourt — "  Come  with  me !" 

Lionel  paused  a  moment,  looking  at  his  new  tutor 
with  an  odd  fascination. 

"  Good-night,  Professor !"  he  said  at  last — "  To- 
morrow I  shall  ask  you  a  great  many  questions." 

"  Indeed  !"  returned  the  Professor,  grimly — "  I 
have  no  doubt  I  shall  be  able  to  answer  them !" 

"  Will  you  come,  sir !"  roared  Mr.  Valliscourt. 

Lionel  obeyed,  and  followed  his  father  passively 
upstairs  to  his  own  little  bedroom,  where  Mr.  Vallis- 
court took  the  matches  carefully  away,  and  shut 


1 1 6  THE  MIGHTY  A  TOM. 

down  and  fastened  the  window.  This  done,  he 
turned  to  the  boy  and  said, — 

"  Now  here  you  stay  till  to-morrow  morning, — you 
understand?  You  will  have  time  to  think  over  your 
wicked  disobedience  of  to-day, — the  anxiety  you 
have  caused  me,  and  the  trouble, — the  disgraceful 
exhibition  you  have  made  of  yourself  to  the  Pro- 
fessor— and  I  hope  you  will  have  the  grace  to  feel 
sorry.  And  if  you  cry  or  make  a  row  up  here " 

"Why  do  you  talk  like  that,  father?"  queried 
Lionel,  simply — "  You  know  well  enough  that  I 
never  make  a  row." 

Mr.  Valliscourt  stopped,  looking  at  him.  For  a 
moment  he  was  embarrassed  by  the  direct  truth  of 
the  remark, — for  he  did  know, — Lionel  never  showed 
any  sign  of  petulance  or  fury.  The  boy,  meanwhile, 
put  a  chair  at  the  window  facing  the  sunset,  and  sat 
down. 

"What  made  you  run  away  to-day?"  asked  his 
father,  after  a  brief  pause. 

"  I  have  told  you  already,"  responded  Lionel, 
somewhat  wearily — "  I  was  tired." 

"  Tired  of  what  ?" 

"  Of  books  and  everything  in  them.  They  are 
very  puzzling,  you  know, — no  two  writers  agree  on 
any  one  point — no  two  histories  are  alike — it  is  all 
quarrel,  quarrel,  muddle,  muddle.  And  what's  the 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  117 

good  of  it  all  ?  You  die,  and  you  forget  everything 
you  ever  knew.  So  your  trouble's  wasted  and  your 
knowledge  useless." 

"  Little  fool !  You  have  to  live  first  before  you 
die,  and  knowledge  of  books  is  necessary  to  life," 
said  Valliscourt,  harshly. 

"  You  think  so  ?  Ah  ! — well,  I  haven't  quite  made 
up  my  mind  about  that,"  answered  the  boy,  with  a 
quaintly  reflective  air — "  I  must  consider  it  carefully 
before  I  decide.  Good-night,  father." 

Mr.  Valliscourt  gave  no  reply.  Striding  out  of 
the  room  he  banged  the  door  angrily,  and  locked  it 
behind  him.  Lionel  remained  by  the  window,  look- 
ing straight  into  the  golden  glare  of  the  west.  He 
was  not  at  all  unhappy, — he  had  had  one  day  of 
joyous  and  ever-memorable  freedom, — and  that  this 
lonely  room  should  be  the  end  of  it  did  not  seem  to 
him  much  of  a  hardship.  He  was  not  afraid  of 
either  solitude  or  darkness, — it  was  better  to  be  alone 
thus  than  to  have  to  endure  the  presence  of  the  gaunt 
and  unwholesome  looking  object  downstairs,  who 
was  reputed  by  a  certain  "  set"  to  be  one  of  the 
wisest  men  in  the  world.  A  pity  that  wisdom  made 
a  person  so  ugly !  thought  Lionel,  as  he  recalled 
one  by  one  the  Professor's  unattractive  lineaments. 
What  lantern-jaws  he  had ! — what  cold,  cruel  little 
ferret  eyes  ! — what  an  unkind  slit  for  a  mouth ! — 


Il8  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

and  how  very  different  was  his  crafty,  artificially- 
composed  demeanour  to  the  open  and  sincere  bear- 
ing of  Reuben  Dale ! 

"  Reuben  Dale  could  teach  me  a  lot,  I  know," 
mused  the  boy — "  He  doesn't  read  Greek  or  Latin,  I 
suppose, — but  I'm  sure  he  could  help  me  to  find 
out  something  about  life,  and  that's  what  I  want. 
I  want  to  understand  what  it  means, — life, — and 
death." 

He  lifted  his  eyes  to  the  radiant  sky  and  saw  two 
long  shafts  of  luminous  amber  spring  outward  and 
upward  from  the  sinking  sun  like  great  golden  leaves 
between  which  the  orb  of  light  blossomed  red  like  a 
fiery  rose  in  heaven. 

"  I  wish  there  were  angels,  really"  he  said,  half 
aloud — "  One  would  almost  think  there  must  be,  and 
that  all  that  splendid  colour  was  put  into  the  sky 
just  to  show  us  what  their  beautiful  wings  are  like. 
Little  Jessamine  Dale  believes  in  angels, — I  should 
like  to  believe  in  them,  too, — if  I  could." 

His  gaze  wandered  slowly  down  from  the  sunset 
to  the  shrubs  and  trees  of  the  garden  below  him, 
and  presently  he  saw  among  the  darkening  shadows 
two  figures  moving  leisurely  up  and  down.  One 
was  his  mother, — he  recognised  her  by  the  white 
serge  dress  she  wore, — the  other  was  a  man  whose 
personality  he  was  not  at  first  quite  sure  of,  but 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  119 

whom  he  afterwards  made  out  to  be  Sir  Charles 
Lascelles. 

"  I  suppose  he's  come  to  dinner,"  thought  Lionel 
— "  I  remember  now, — Mr.  Montrose  mentioned  that 
he  was  staying  quite  near  here  at  Watermouth  Castle. 
I  wonder  why  I  don't  like  him  ?" 

He  considered  this  for  some  time  without  clearing 
up  the  point  satisfactorily, — then,  before  it  grew 
quite  dark,  he  took  out  Montrose's  copy  of  Homer 
from  under  his  blue  jersey  vest  where  he  had  se- 
creted it,  out  of  his  father's  sight,  and  put  it  care- 
fully by  in  readiness  to  post  to  its  rightful  owner 
next  day,  smiling  a  little  to  himself  as  he  thought 
of  Jessamine's  odd  pronunciation  of  the  "Drojun 
wors."  This  done,  he  resumed  his  seat  by  the 
window  and  watched  the  skies  and  the  landscape 
till  both  grew  dark  and  the  stars  began  to  twinkle 
out  dimly  in  the  hazy  purple  distance.  His  little 
mind  was  always  restless  and  actively  evolving  ideas, 
and  though  his  immediate  reflections  dwelt  for  the 
most  part  on  the  pretty  face  and  winsome  ways  of 
Jessamine  Dale,  they  now  and  then  took  a  more 
serious  turn  and  strove  to  make  something  out  of 
what  appeared  to  him  an  ever-deepening  problem 
and  puzzle, — namely, — why  should  some  people  be- 
lieve in  a  God,  and  others  not  ?  And  why  should 
so  many  of  those  who  professed  belief,  live  their 


120  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

lives  in  direct  opposition  to  the  very  creed  they  as- 
sumed to  follow?  There  must  be  adequate  cause 
for  all  these  phases  of  human  nature.  Did  the 
world  make  itself? — or  did  it  owe  its  origin  to  a 
reasoning  and  reasonable  Creator  ? — and  not  only 
the  world,  but  all  the  vast  universe, — the  thousands 
of  millions  of  glorious  and  perfect  star-systems 
which,  like  flowers  in  a  garden,  bloomed  in  the  pure 
ether, — what  was  the  object  of  their  existence  if  any, 
and  why  was  it  decided  that  they  should  exist,  and 
WHO  so  decided  it  ?  Deep  in  the  child's  brain  the 
eternal  question  burned, — the  eternal  defiance  which 
always  asserts  itself  when  there  is  neither  faith  nor 
hope, — the  suicidal  scorn  which  disdains  and  up- 
braids a  Force  that  can  give  no  reason  for  its  actions, 
and  which  refuses  to  act  in  blind  obedience  to  the 
cross-currents  of  a  fate  that  leads  to  Nothingness. 
"  If  you  can  offer  me  no  worthy  explanation  of  my 
existence,  and  I  can  supply  none  for  myself," — says 
the  tortured  and  suffering  soul, — "  then  not  all  the 
elements  shall  hinder  me  from  putting  an  end  to  that 
existence,  if  I  please.  This  much  I  can  do, — if  you 
give  me  no  satisfactory  motive  for  my  hold  on  life  I 
can  cease  to  live,  and  thus  are  your  arguments  con- 
futed and  your  surface-knowledge  made  vain." 

The  seed  of  this  spiritual  rebellion  was  in  Lionel's 
mind  though  he  knew  it  not, — it  had  been  sown 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  121 

there  by  others,  and  was  not  of  his  own  planting, 
nor  the  natural  out-put  of  his  being.  His  unceasing 
query  as  to  the  "  why"  of  things,  had  never  been 
answered  by  the  majestic  reason  known  to  those 
whose  faith  is  raised  upon  high  pinnacles  of  thought 
and  aspiration, — and  who  hold  it  as  a  truth  that 
their  lives  are  lived  by  God's  will  and  ordinance  in 
the  school  of  temporal  beginnings  as  a  preparation 
for  eternal  fulfilment.  This  supreme  support  and 
hope  had  not  been  given  to  the  boy's  frail  life  to 
raise  it  like  a  drooping  flower  from  the  dust  of 
material  forms  and  facts, — he  had  been  carefully 
instructed  in  all  the  necessary  sciences  for  becoming 
a  man  of  hard  calculation  and  cool  business-apti- 
tude,— but  his  imagination  had  been  promptly 
checked, — he  had  never  even  been  taught  a  prayer, 
although  he  had  been  told  that  there  were  people 
who  prayed, — in  churches  and  elsewhere.  When  he 
propounded  the  usual  "  why  ?"  he  was  informed  that 
the  fashion  of  praying  was  the  remains  of  old  super- 
stition, followed  now  out  of  mere  ordinary  usage 
because  the  "  masses"  of  the  people  were  not  yet 
sufficiently  educated  to  do  entirely  without  the 
observances  to  which  they  had  for  so  many  centuries 
been  accustomed, — but  that  it  was  only  a  matter  of 
foolish  habit.  And  then  his  teachers  pointed  out  to 
him  that  the  laws  of  the  universe  being  inflexible,  it 

F  II 


122  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

was  ridiculous  to  suppose  that  prayer  could  alter 
them,  or  that  the  deaf,  blind,  dumb  forces  of  nature 
could  possibly  note  a  human  being's  trouble,  or 
listen  to  a  human  being's  complaint,  much  less 
accede  to  a  human  being's  request, — for  human 
beings,  compared  with  the  extent  of  Creation  gen- 
erally, were  no  more  than  motes  in  a  sunbeam  or 
ants  on  an  ant-hill.  Hearing  this  and  quickly 
grasping  the  idea  of  man's  infinite  littleness,  Lionel 
at  once  set  about  asking  the  cause  of  man's  evident 
arrogance.  If  he  was  indeed  so  minute  a  portion  of 
the  creative  plan  and  so  valueless  to  its  progress, 
why  was  he  so  concerned  about  himself?  If  he 
were  but  a  mote  or  an  ant,  what  did  it  matter 
whether  he  were  learned  or  ignorant? — and  did  it 
not  seem  somewhat  of  a  cruel  jest  to  fill  him  with 
such  pride,  aspiration,  and  endeavour,  when,  accord- 
ing to  scientific  fact,  he  was  but  a  grain  of  worthless 
and  perishable  dust?  To  all  these  serious  ques- 
tions, the  small  searcher  after  truth  never  got  any 
satisfactory  replies.  Montrose  indeed  had  told  him 
with  much  emphasis,  that  man  possessed  an  immor- 
tal Soul, — a  conscious,  individual,  progressive  Self 
which  could  not  die, — which  took  part  in  all  the 
designs  of  God,  and  which,  filled  with  the  divine 
breath  of  inspiration  and  desire  of  holiness,  was  borne 
on  through  infinite  phases  of  wisdom,  love,  and  glory 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 


I23 


for  ever  and  ever,  always  increasing  in  beauty, 
strength,  love,  and  purity.  Such  a  destiny,  thought 
Lionel,  would  have  made  one's  present  life  worth 
living,  if  true.  But  then,  according  to  modern 
scientists,  it  wasn't  true,  and  Montrose  was  a  poor 
"  semi-barbarian"  who  still  believed  in  God,  and  who 
had  got  his  dismissal  from  his  post  as  tutor,  chiefly 
on  that  account. 

"  I  wonder,"  mused  Lionel,  "  what  it  is  that  makes 
him  believe?  It  can't  be  stupidity,  -for  he  is  very 
clever  and  kind  and  good.  I  wish  I  knew  exactly 
why  he  thinks  there  is  a  God, — and  Reuben  Dale 
too, — he  has  just  the  same  idea, — only  when  I  ask, 
no  one  seems  able  to  give  me  any  clear  explanation 
of  what  they  feel." 

Darker  and  darker  grew  the  evening  shadows, — 
but  still  he  sat  at  the  window,  solemnly  considering 
the  deep  problems  of  life  and  time,  and  never 
thought  of  going  to  bed.  Soon  a  misty  white  glory 
arose  out  of  the  gathering  blackness, — the  moon, 
pallid  yet  brilliant,  lifted  her  strangely  sorrowful  face 
over  the  plumy  tree-tops  and  cast  a  silvery  reflection 
on  the  grass  below.  It  was  a  mournful,  almost  spec- 
tral night, — a  faint  bluish  haze  of  heat  hung  in  the 
stirless  air, — dew  sparkled  thickly  in  patches  upon 
the  distant  fields,  with  a  smooth  sheen  as  of  shining 
swamps  or  suddenly  risen  pools, — and  in  the  furthest 


124  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

thickets  of  the  garden,  a  belated  nightingale,  who 
ought  by  laws  ornithological  to  have  hushed  his 
voice  more  than  a  month  since,  sang  drowsily  and  as 
if  in  a  dream,  without  passion  yet  with  something  of 
pain.  Lionel  heard  the  faint  throbbing  fluty  notes 
afar  off,  and  would  have  liked  to  open  the  window  to 
listen  more  attentively,  but  as  his  father  had  shut  and 
fastened  it  he  decided  to  leave  it  so ; — and  presently, 
what  with  watching  the  moon  and  the  lengthening 
ghostly  shadows,  and  thinking  and  wondering,  he 
fell  fast  asleep  in  his  chair,  his  head  leaning  against 
the  wall.  For  a  long  time  he  remained  thus,  dream- 
ing odd  disjointed  dreams,  in  which  the  various  facts 
he  had  learned  of  history  got  mixed  up  with  little 
Jessamine  Dale  and  the  "  ole  'oss,"  the  latter  ob- 
ject becoming  in  his  visions  suddenly  endowed 
with  life  and  worthy  to  bear  a  Cceur  de  Lion  to 
the  field  of  battle.  All  at  once  he  was  startled 
into  broad  wakefulness  by  a  voice  calling  softly 
yet  clearly, — 

"  Lionel !     Lionel !" 

He  jumped  up,  and  to  his  amazement  saw  the  stal- 
wart figure  of  Sir  Charles  Lascelles  comfortably 
perched  on  a  branch  of  the  big  elm-tree  that  grew 
just  outside  his  window.  The  baronet  had  a  pack- 
age in  his  hand  and  with  it  made  signs  of  peremptory 
yet  mysterious  meaning.  Not  knowing  what  to 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  125 

think  of  this  strange  proceeding,  the  boy  noiselessly 
unfastened  and  raised  the  window. 

"  Oh,  there  you  are,  little  chappie !"  said  Sir 
Charles,  showing  his  white  teeth  in  a  pleasant  smile, 
and  swinging  himself  further  along  the  branch  in 
order  to  approach  the  window  more  nearly — "  Look 
here, — your  mother  sends  you  this — catch  !"  and  he 
dexterously  threw  the  packet  he  held  straight  into 
the  room,  where  it  fell  on  the  floor, — "  Sandwiches, 
cake,  and  pears,  my  boy! — eat  'em  all  and  go  to 
bed.  The  old  man's  been  boasting  of  his  cleverness 
in  starving  you, — he's  shut  himself  up  now  with  that 
blessed  ass  of  a  professor,  so  he  won't  know  anything 
about  it, — and  your  mother  says  you're  to  eat  every 
morsel,  to  please  her.  Ta-ta  !" 

Lionel  thrust  his  little,  pale  eager  face  out  of  the 
window. 

"  Oh,  please,  Sir  Charles  !"  he  called  faintly  after 
the  retreating  baronet.  Lascelles  looked  back. 

"  Well  ?  " 

"  Give  mother  my  love, — my  dear  love ! — and 
thank  her  for  me." 

Sir  Charles  turned  his  face  upward  in  the  silver 
shimmer  of  the  moon.  There  was  a  curious  ex- 
pression upon  it,  of  shame,  mingled  with  tenderness 
and  remorse. 

"  All  right,  my  boy,— I  will.     Good-night !" 
11* 


I26  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

"  Good-night !"  responded  Lionel.  And  he  stood 
at  the  open  window  for  a  minute  or  two,  inhaling 
the  night  air,  fragrant  with  the  odour  of  flowers 
and  the  breath  of  the  sea, — and  marvelling  at  the 
athletic  adroitness  with  which  Sir  Charles,  who 
generally  "posed"  as  a  languid  and  lazy  man  of 
fashion,  slipped  along  the  elm-branch,  swung  him- 
self downward  by  both  hands,  dropped  stealthily  to 
the  ground  and  disappeared.  No  burglar  could 
have  been  more  secret  or  swift  in  his  actions,  or 
more  sudden  in  his  coming  and  going.  Alone 
once  more,  the  boy  shut  and  fastened  the  window 
again  with  soft  precaution, — then  he  felt  along  the 
floor  for  his  mother's  package.  He  soon  found 
and  opened  it, — there  were  plenty  of  good  things 
inside, — and,  spreading  his  repast  on  the  window- 
sill  with  the  moonbeams  for  light,  he  was  surprised 
to  find  himself  really  hungry.  He  very  seldom 
felt  any  decided  relish  for  food, — and  he  did  not 
realise  that  his  one  day's  free  "  outing"  in  the 
Devonshire  air  was  the  cause  of  his  healthy  ap- 
petite. To-morrow,  and  the  next  day,  and  the 
next,  when  he  should  resume  his  poring  over 
books,  and  his  patient  if  weary  researches  into 
"  works  of  reference,"  he  would  find  the  old  in- 
difference, lassitude,  and  nausea  upon  him  again, 
— the  lack  of  energy  which  deprived  him  not  only 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  127 

of  appetite,  but  even  of  joy  in  exercise, — which 
made  a  walk  fatiguing  and  a  run  impossible.  But 
now  his  little  moonlit  feast  seemed  delightful, — and 
he  was  quite  happy  when,  having  finished  the  sur- 
reptitious meal,  he  undressed  and  slipped  into  bed. 
He  was  soon  asleep,  and  the  white  moon-rays 
streaming  in  at  the  uncurtained  window  fell  slant- 
wise on  his  small  classic  face  and  ruffled  curly  hair. 
Some  pleasing  vision  sweetened  his  rest,  for  he 
smiled, — that  divine,  half-wondering,  half-solemn 
smile  which  is  never  seen  save  on  the  lips  of 
sleeping  children  and  the  newly  dead. 


CHAPTER    VII. 

THE  next  morning  Professor  Cadman-Gore  sat 
awaiting  his  pupil  in  what  was  called  the  "  school- 
room,"— the  bare,  uncurtained  apartment  in  which 
Lionel  had  been  puzzling  over  his  books  when  Willie 
Montrose  had  called  him  out  from  study  to  the  fresh 
air  and  the  salty  scent  of  the  sea.  It  was  an  old- 
fashioned  room,  with  a  very  low  ceiling  which  was 
crossed  and  recrossed  by  stout  oak  rafters  after  the 
style  common  to  Henry  the  Eighth's  period,  and 
had  evidently  been  formerly  used  as  a  storeroom 
both  for  linen  and  provisions,  for  all  round  the 
walls  there  were  large  oaken  cupboards  holding 
many  broad  shelves,  and  here  and  there  among  the 
rafters  were  yet  to  be  seen  great  iron  hooks  strong 
enough  to  support  a  pendant  dried  haunch  of  veni- 
son, or  possibly  a  whole  stag,  antlers  included. 
The  Professor,  being  tall,  found  some  of  these  hooks 
considerably  in  his  way, — he  had  already  knocked 
his  bald  pate  rather  smartly  against  one  of  them, 
which  he  had  instantly  turned  upon  as  though  it 
were  a  sentient  enemy  and  endeavoured  to  wrench 
out  of  position.  But  the  tough  rusted  iron  resisted 
128 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 


129 


all  his  efforts,  and  he  had  only  scratched  his  hands 
and  wasted  his  time  without  gaining  his  object. 
Somewhat  irritated  at  this  trifling  annoyance, — trifles 
always  irritated  him, — he  seated  himself  in  the  most 
comfortable  chair  available  and  looked  out  of  the 
window,  which  was  a  quaint  and  pretty  lattice-work 
casement  opening  on  two  sides  in  the  French  fashion. 
The  lovely  scent  of  sweet-briar  assailed  his  nose  and 
offended  it, — the  gardener  was  cutting  the  grass,  and 
the  dewy  smell  suggested  hay-fever  at  once  to  his 
mind. 

"  What  a  fool  I  was  to  consent  to  come  to  this 
out-of-the-way  place !"  he  muttered,  ill-temperedly 
— "  Considering  the  distance  from  town  and  the  dis- 
comfort of  the  surroundings  I  ought  to  ask  double 
fees.  The  man  Valliscourt  is  a  prig — thinks  he 
knows  something  and  doesn't  know  anything, — his 
wife  is  good-looking  and  has  all  the  impudent  self- 
assurance  common  to  women  of  her  type, — and  the 
boy  seems  to  be  a  little  puny-faced  ass.  Talk  of  the 
quiet  of  the  country  ! — ugh  ! — I  was  wakened  up 
this  morning  by  the  incessant  crowing  of  a  cock, — 
what  people  buy  such  brutes  of  birds  for  I  don't 
know, — then  a  wretched  cow  began  lowing, — and  as 
for  the  twittering  of  the  birds,  why  it's  a  positive 
pandemonium, — worse  than  a  dozen  knife-grinders 
at  work.  I'll  have  all  those  creepers  cut  away  that 


1 30  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

are  climbing  round  my  bedroom  window, — they  har- 
bour insects  as  well  as  birds,  and  the  sooner  I  get 
rid  of  both  nuisances  the  better." 

He  blew  his  long  nose  violently  with  a  startlingly- 
tinted  silk  handkerchief  of  mingled  red  and  yellow 
hues, — and  the  idea  of  hay-fever  again  recurring  to 
him,  he  shut  the  window  with  a  bang.  Then  he 
unfolded  a  large  sheet  of  paper  which  Mr.  Vallis- 
court  had  given  him  the  previous  night,  and  on 
which  was  written  out  in  neatest  copper-plate  the 
"  schedule"  or  plan  of  study  Lionel  had  been  fol- 
lowing for  the  past  six  months.  Over  this  docu- 
ment he  knitted  his  yellow  forehead,  grinned  and 
frowned, — as  he  read  on  he  blinked,  sucked  his 
tongue  and  smacked  his  lips,  and  twisted  himself 
about  in  so  many  fidgety  ways  that  he  became  a 
perfectly  appalling  spectacle  of  ugliness,  and  in  his 
absorbed  condition  of  mind  was  not  aware  that  the 
door  of  the  room  had  quietly  opened  and  as  quietly 
closed  again,  and  that  Lionel  stood  confronting  him 
with  a  calmly  speculative  and  critical  stare.  Two 
or  three  minutes  passed  silently  in  this  way, — then 
Lionel  spoke. 

"  Good-morning,  Professor !" 

The  Professor   started,  and  rapidly  disentangled 

•his  long  legs  from  the  uncouth  knot  in  which  he 

had  gathered  them  over  the  rung  of  the  chair  he 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  131 

occupied, — put  down  the  "  plan," — adjusted  his 
round  spectacles  and  surveyed  his  pupil. 

"  Good-morning,  sir !"  he  responded,  drily — "  I 
trust  you  have  slept  off  your  temper  and  are  pre- 
pared for  work  ?" 

"  I  haven't  slept  off  my  temper,"  said  Lionel, 
quietly,  "  because  I  had  no  temper  to  sleep  off. 
Father  knew  that  as  well  as  I  did.  It's  always  silly, 
I  thmk,  to  accuse  somebody  else  of  being  in  a 
temper  when  you're  in  one  yourself.  But  that's 
all  over  now, — that  was  yesterday, — this  is  to-day, 
and  I  am  quite  prepared  for  work." 

"  Glad  to  hear  it !"  and  Professor  Cadman-Gore 
smiled  his  usual  pallid  smile — "  Have  you  had  your 
breakfast  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  And  have  you  '  rested'  sufficiently  ?"  demanded 
the  Professor,  with  sarcastic  emphasis. 

"  I  don't  know, — I  don't  think  so,"  the  boy  an- 
swered, slowly — "  I  often  feel  I  should  like  to  go  to 
sleep  for  days  and  days." 

"  Really !"  and  a  prolonged  sniff  indicated  the 
learned  tutor's  deep  disdain — "  Possibly  you  are  of 
the  hybernating  species  ?" 

"  Possibly !"  responded  Lionel,  with  cynical  calm 
— "  A  hybernating  animal  is  a  creature  that  goes  to 
sleep  all  the  winter.  I  shouldn't  mind  that  at  all, — 


132  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

it  would  take  off  a  lot  of  trouble  from  one's  life. 
Don't  you  ever  feel  tired  ?" 

"  Physically  speaking,  I  am  occasionally  fatigued," 
said  the  Professor,  eyeing  him  severely — "  Particu- 
larly when  I  have  to  train  and  instruct  foolish 
and  refractory  natures.  Mentally,  I  am  never 
weary.  And  now,  if  you  have  no  further  observa- 
tions of  immediate  importance  to  make,  perhaps 
you  will  condescend  to  commence  the  morrting's 
work." 

Lionel  smiled,  and  tossed  back  his  curly  hair  with 
a  pretty,  half-proud,  half-careless  gesture. 

"  Oh,  I  see  what  you  are  like  now !"  he  said — 
"  You  are  what  they  call  of  a  satirical  turn  of  mind, 
— and  it  is  part  of  your  particular  kind  of  fun  to  ask 
me  if  I  will  '  condescend'  to  work,  when  you  know 
a  boy  like  me  can't  have  his  own  way  in  anything, 
and  has  to  do  what  he's  told.  I  know  what  is  meant 
by  satire, — Juvenal  was  a  satirist.  I  made  an  essay 
on  him  once, — he  began  as  a  poet,  but  he  got  tired 
of  writing  beautiful  things  for  people  who  wouldn't 
or  couldn't  understand  them, — so  he  turned  round 
and  ridiculed  everybody.  He  got  exiled  to  Egypt 
for  making  fun  of  one  of  the  Emperor  Hadrian's 
favourites, — and  they  say  he  died  out  there  of  vexa- 
tion and  weariness,  but  I  think  it  was  more  from  old 
age  than  anything  else,  because  he  lived  till  he  was 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  133 

eighty,  and  that  made  him  older  I  daresay  than  even 
you  are  now." 

The  Professor's  nose  reddened  visibly  with  irrita- 
tion. 

"Older? — I  should  think  so  indeed! — very  much 
older !"  he  snapped  out — "  It  will  be  a  very  long  time 
before  /am  eighty." 

"Will  it?"  queried  Lionel,  simply — "Well,  one 
can  only  go  by  looks,  you  know,  and  you  look  old, 
and  I'm  not  at  all  clever  at  guessing  people's  ages. 
Will  you  ask  me  some  questions  now,  or  will  you 
teach  me  something  I  am  very  anxious  to  know, 
first?" 

The  Professor  glanced  him  over  from  head  to  foot 
with  grim  disparagement. 

"  I  think,"  he  said,  "  it  is  my  turn  to  examine  you, 
if  you  have  quite  done  examining  me.  It  is  neces- 
sary for  me  to  know  how  far  you  have  actually  pro- 
gressed in  your  studies,  before  I  set  you  fresh  tasks. 
Referring  to  the  plan  so  admirably  drawn  up  by 
your  father,  it  seems  you  should  know  something  of 
Greek  and  Latin, — you  should  also  be  considerably 
advanced  in  mathematics,  and  you  should  be  fairly 
strong  in  history.  Stand  where  you  are,  please, — 
put  your  hands  behind  your  back,  in  case  you  should 
be  inclined  to  twiddle  your  fingers, — I  hate  all  ner- 
vous movements — "  the  learned  gentleman  was  ap- 

12 


134  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

parently  unaware  of  his  own  capacity  for  the  "  fidg- 
ets,"— "  and  when  you  give  an  answer,  look  me 
straight  in  the  face.  1  have  my  own  special  method 
of  examination,  which  you  will  have  to  accustom 
yourself  to." 

"  Oh,  yes  !"  replied  Lionel,  cheerfully — "  Eveiy 
tutor  has  his  own  special  method,  and  no  two  meth- 
ods are  alike.  It  is  difficult  at  first  to  understand 
them  all, — but  I  always  try  to  do  my  best." 

The  Professor  made  no  response,  but  set  to  his 
work  of  catechising  in  terrible  earnest,  and  before  an 
hour  had  passed  was  fairly  astonished  at  the  pre- 
cocity, intelligence,  and  acute  perception  of  his  pupil. 
The  child  of  ten  had  learnt  more  facts  of  science  and 
history  than  he,  in  his  time,  had  known  when  he  was 
twenty.  He  concealed  his  surprise,  however,  under 
the  cover  of  inflexible  austerity,  and  the  more  apt  of 
comprehension  Lionel  proved  himself  to  be,  the 
more  the  eminent  pedagogue's  professional  interest 
became  excited  and  the  more  he  determined  to  work 
such  promising  material  hard.  This  is  often  the  fate 
of  brilliant  and  intelligent  children, — the  more  quickly 
they  learn,  the  more  cruelly  they  are  "  crammed," 
till  both  heart  and  brain  give  way  under  the  unnat- 
ural effort  and  forced  impetus,  and  disaster  follows 
disaster,  ending  in  the  wreck  of  the  whole  intellectual 
and  physical  organisation.  Happy,  in  these  days  of 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  135 

vaunted  progress,  is  the  dull,  heavy  boy  who  cannot 
learn, — who  tumbles  asleep  over  his  books,  and  gets 
a  caning,  which  is  far  better  than  a  "  cramming," — 
who  is  "  plucked  "  in  his  exams,  and  dubbed  "  dunce  " 
for  his  pains ; — the  chances  are  ten  to  one  that  though 
he  be  put  to  scorn  by  the  showy  college  pupil 
loaded  with  honours,  he  will,  in  the  long  run,  prove 
the  better,  aye,  and  the  cleverer  man  of  the  two. 
The  young  truant  whom  Mother  Nature  coaxes  out 
into  the  woods  and  fields  when  he  should  be  at 
his  books, — who  laughs  with  a  naughty  reckless- 
ness at  the  gods  of  Greece,  and  has  an  innate 
comic  sense  of  the  uselessness  of  learning  dead 
languages  which  he  is  never  to  speak,  is  probably 
the  very  destined  man  who,  in  time  of  battle,  will 
prove  himself  a  hero  of  the  first  rank,  or  who, 
planted  solitary  in  an  unexplored  country,  will  be- 
come one  of  the  leading  pioneers  of  modern  prog- 
ress and  discovery.  Over-study  is  fatal  to  originality 
of  character,  and  both  clearness  of  brain  and  strength 
of  physique  are  denied  to  the  victims  of  "  cram." 
Professor  Cadman-Gore  was  an  advocate  of "  cram- 
ming"— he  was  esteemed  in  many  quarters  as  the 
best  "  coach"  of  the  day,  and  he  apparently  con- 
sidered a  young  human  brain  as  a  sort  of  expanding 
bag  or  hold-all,  to  be  filled  with  various  bulky 
articles  of  knowledge  useful  or  otherwise,  till  it 


136  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

showed  signs  of  bursting, — then  it  was  to  be 
promptly  strapped  together,  locked  and  labelled — 
"  Registered  Through  Passenger  for  Life."  If  the 
lock  broke  and  the  whole  bag  gave  way,  why  then 
so  much  the  worse  for  the  bag, — it  was  proved  to 
be  of  bad  material,  and  its  bursting  was  not  the 
Professor's  fault.  His  filmy  eyes  began  to  sparkle 
with  a  dull  glitter,  and  his  yellow  cheeks  reddened 
at  their  jaw-bone  summits,  as  he  took  note  of  the 
methodical  precision  and  swiftness  with  which  the 
young  Lionel  assorted  his  "  facts"  in  sequence  and 
order, — of  the  instantaneous,  hawk-like  fashion  in 
which  the  boy's  bright  brain  pounced,  as  it  were, 
on  a  difficult  proposition  in  Euclid  and  solved  it 
without  difficulty, — and  a  lurking  sense  of  the  un- 
naturalness  of  such  over-rapid  perception  and  anal- 
ysis in  a  child  of  ten  intruded  itself  now  and  then 
on  his  consciousness, — for,  among  other  matters,  the 
Professor  had  studied  medicine.  Yet  his  knowledge 
of  the  science  was  so  slight  that  he  was  not  without 
fears  of  instant  death  whenever  he  had  a  mild  attack 
of  dyspepsia,  and  he  considered  himself  seriously 
wounded  if  he  managed  to  run  a  pin  into  his  finger. 
Nevertheless,  a  few  trite  medical  statements  did 
occur  to  his  memory  as  he  put  Lionel  through  his 
paces, — recognised  axioms  concerning  over-precocity 
of  brain  and  acute  cerebral  excitement  of  nerve- 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  137 

centres, — but  he  did  not  permit  himself  to  dwell 
upon  them.  On  the  contrary,  he  worked  the  boy  as 
he  would  have  worked  a  muscular  young  fellow  of 
eighteen  or  twenty,  and  Lionel  himself  showed  no 
signs  of  weariness,  owing  to  the  complete  rest  and 
release  from  tension  he  had  enjoyed  the  previous 
day.  Things  that  often  presented  themselves  to 
him  as  a  useless  "  muddle,"  now  suddenly  seemed 
quite  simple  and  clear,  and  he  was  sensible  of  a 
curious,  almost  feverish  desire  to  astonish  his  new 
tutor  by  his  quickness.  An  inward  precipitate  voli- 
tion hurried  him  on,  causing  him  to  spring  at  diffi- 
culties and  overcome  them, — and  he  gave  all  his 
answers  with  a  fluency  and  rapidity  that  was  be- 
wildering even  to  himself.  At  the  conclusion  of  the 
morning's  work  Professor  Cadman-Gore  reluctantly 
stated  that  he  was  "  fairly  well  satisfied"  with  the 
results  of  his  preliminary  interrogations. 

"  You  will,  however,"  he  continued,  "  need  to 
apply  yourself  more  closely  to  study  than  you  have 
hitherto  done,  if  you  are  to  be  at  all  a  credit  to  me. 
I  must  tell  you  I  very  seldom  undertake  the  tuition 
of  a  boy  of  your  age, — it  is  too  much  trouble,  and 
too  little  honour, — but  as  you  have  gone  on  so  far, 
and  your  father  seems  anxious  about  you,  I  shall  do 
my  best  to  put  you  well  ahead.  I  am  now  going  to 
write  down  the  course  of  reading  you  will  undertake 

12* 


138  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

this  afternoon,  and  the  dozen  'subjects'  you  will 
prepare  for  to-morrow, — I  shall  expect  you  not  only 
to  be  word-perfect  but  sense-perfect.  I  want  abso- 
lute and  distinct  comprehension, — not  parrot-like 
repetition  merely." 

"I  am  only  having  holiday  tasks,"  put  in  Lionel, 
with  a  wistful  air — "  Do  you  know  that  ?" 

"  Of  course  I  know  it.  Such  work  as  you  are 
given  now  is  comparatively  light  to  what  you  will  be 
able  to  perform  when  the  regular  term  begins.  You 
are  preparing  for  a  public  school, — Winchester  ?" 

"No,  I  don't  think  so,— I  should  like  to,— 
but " 

"  H'm— h'm  !— Now  let  me  think  !"  And  twitch- 
ing his  forehead  and  mouth  in  his  usual  nervous 
fashion,  the  Professor  began  to  scribble  his  list  of 
"  themes,"  while  Lionel  stood  quietly  beside  him, 
watching  the  great  bony  fingers  that  guided  the 
pen. 

"  When  you  have  done  that,  may  I  ask  you  the 
thing  I  want  so  much  to  know?"  he  inquired. 

The  Professor  looked  up  with  some  curiosity.  He 
was  inclined  to  negative  the  proposition,  but  the 
boy's  aptitude  and  intelligence,  combined  with  his 
obedience  and  gentleness,  had,  to  a  very  great  de- 
gree, mollified  the  chronic  state  of  irritation  in  which 
he,  as  a  sort  of  modern  Diogenes,  was  wont  to  exist, 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  139 

— so  after  a  pause,  during  which  he  went  on  writing, 
he  replied, — 

"  You  may,  certainly.  Is  it  a  matter  of  impor- 
tance ?" 

"  I  think  so !"  and  the  boy's  eyes  darkened  and 
grew  dreamy — "  It  seems  so  to  me,  at  any  rate.  I 
am  very  anxious  about  it." 

Professor  Cadman-Gore  laid  down  his  pen,  and 
leaning  back  in  his  chair  widened  his  thin  lips  into 
what  he  meant  to  be  an  encouraging  smile. 

"  Well,  speak  out !"  he  said—"  What  is  it  ?" 

Lionel  came  closer  to  him  and  looked  earnestly 
in  his  face. 

"  You  see  you  are  very  clever,"  he  observed  with 
deferential  gentleness — "  Cleverer  than  anybody  in 
all  England,  some  people  say.  Well,  then,  you  must 
have  found  out  all  about  it,  and  you  can  explain 
what  has  been  puzzling  me  for  a  long,  long  time. 
What  I  want  to  know  is  this, — Where  is  the  Atom?" 

The  Professor  gave  a  violent  start, — almost  a 
jump, — and  stared. 

"  Where  is  the  Atom  ?"  he  repeated — "  What 
nonsense  are  you  talking  ?  What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  It's  not  nonsense,"  declared  Lionel,  with  pa- 
tient firmness — "  It  can't  be  nonsense, — because  it 
is  the  cause  of  everything  we  know.  We  are  alive, 
aren't  we? — you  and  I  and  millions  of  people,  and 


1 40  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

we're  all  in  this  world  together.  But  books  tell 
you  that  this  world  is  only  a  very  little  planet,  one 
of  the  smallest  in  the  sky, — and  there  are  thousands 
and  thousands  and  millions  and  millions  of  other 
planets  ever  so  much  larger,  some  of  which  we 
cannot  see  even  with  the  longest  and  strongest 
telescope.  Then,  look  at  our  sun ! — we  should  not  be 
able  to  live  without  it, — but  there  are  millions  of  other 
suns  and  systems, — all  separate  universes.  Now  if 
all  these  things  are  atoms,  and  are  designed  by  an 
Atom, — where  is  it? — that  wonderful  little  First 
Atom  which,  without  knowing  in  the  least  what  it 
was  about,  and  with  nobody  to  guide  it,  and  having 
no  reason,  judgment,  sight  or  sense  of  its  own, 
produced  such  beautiful  creations  ?  And  then,  if 
you  are  able  to  tell  me  where  it  is,  will  you  also  tell 
me  where  it  came  from  ?" 

The  Professor's  eyes  rolled  wildly  in  his  head,  and 
he  glared  at  the  composed  little  figure  and  wistful, 
earnest  face  of  his  pupil  with  something  of  dismay 
as  well  as  annoyance. 

"  You  see,"  continued  the  boy,  anxiously — "  I 
should  not  have  mentioned  it  to  you,  unless  I  had 
heard  that  you  were  so  wise.  I've  been  waiting  for 
a  very  wise  man  to  talk  to  about  it,  because  it's  been 
on  my  mind  a  long  time.  The  tutor  I  had  who  is 
just  gone,  Mr.  Montrose,  had  quite  different  ideas  to 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  I4I 

those  of  all  the  scientists, — he  believed  in  a  God, 
like  all  the  uneducated,  ignorant  people.  But  before 
Mr.  Montrose  came  I  had  a  very  clever  tutor,  a  Mr. 
Skeet, — he  was  a  Positivist,  he  said,  and  a  great 
friend  of  a  person  named  Frederic  Harrison,  and  he 
told  me  all  about  the  Atom.  He  even  showed  me 
the  enlarged  drawing  of  an  Atom,  as  seen  through 
the  microscope, — a  curious  twisty  thing  with  a  sort 
of  spinal  cord  running  through  it, — something  like 
the  picture  of  a  man's  ribs  in  my  anatomy  book, — 
and  he  explained  to  me  that  it  was  a  fortuitous  com- 
bination of  such  things  that  made  universes.  And 
it  puzzled  me  very  much,  because  I  thought  there 
must  be  a  beginning  even  to  these  atoms,  and  I  could 
not  imagine  how  such  a  twisty  little  object  as  a  First 
Atom  could  think  out  a  plan  by  itself  and  create 
worlds  with  people  bigger  than  itself  on  them.  But 
he  was  a  very  funny  man, — Mr.  Skeet,  I  mean, — he 
used  to  say  that  nothing  was  everything,  and  every- 
thing was  nothing.  He  said  this  so  often  and 
laughed  so  much  over  it,  that  I  was  afraid  he  was 
going  quite  mad,  so  I  used  to  avoid  the  subject 
altogether.  Now  you  have  come,  I  am  sure  you  can 
make  it  clear  to  me  so  that  I  shall  understand 
properly,  because  it  is  very  interesting,  don't  you 
think,  to  know  exactly  where  the  Atom  is  and  what 
it's  doing  ?" 


142  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

Slowly,  and  with  an  uncomfortable  sense  of  baffle- 
ment, Professor  Cadman-Gore  rallied  his  scattered 
forces. 

"  You  ask  to  know  what  no  one  knows,"  he  said, 
harshly — "  That  there  is  a  First  Cause  of  things  is 
evident, — but  where  it  is  and  where  it  came  from  is 
an  unfathomable  mystery.  It  is,  in  all  probability, 
now  absorbed  in  its  own  extended  forces, — all  we 
know  is  that  it  works,  or  has  worked,  and  that  we 
see  its  results  in  the  universe  around  us." 

Lionel's  face  darkened  with  disappointment. 

"  You  call  it  a  First  Cause,"  he  said — "  And  are 
you  really  quite  sure  the  First  Cause  is  an  Atom  ?" 

"  No  one  can  be  sure  of  anything  in  such  matters," 
answered  the  Professor,  wrinkling  his  brows — "  We 
can  only  form  a  guess  from  what  we  are  enabled  to 
discover  in  natural  science." 

A  strange  smile,  half  disdainful,  half  sorrowful, 
flashed  in  the  boy's  eyes. 

"  Oh,  then  you  only  '  guess'  at  the  Atom,  as  other 
people  '  guess'  at  a  God !"  he  said — "  No  one  is 
sure  about  anything !  Well,  I  think  it  is  very  silly 
to  settle  upon  an  Atom  as  the  cause  of  anything. 
It  seems  to  me  much  more  natural  and  likely  that 
it  should  be  a  Person.  A  Person  with  brain  and 
thought  and  feeling  and  memory.  You  see,  an 
Atom  under  the  microscope  has  no  head,  or  any 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  143 

place  where  it  could  grow  a  brain, — it  is  just  a 
thing  like  two  cords  knotted  together,  and  in  the 
works  of  nature  there  is  nothing  of  that  description 
which  thinks  out  a  universe  for  itself, — if  there  were, 
it  would  rule  us  all " 

But  here  the  Professor  rose  up  in  all  his  strength, 
and  swung  a  heavy  battering-ram  of  explicit  fact 
against  the  child's  argument. 

"  And  as  a  matter  of  positive  truth  and  certainty, 
atoms  do  rule  us !"  he  interrupted  with  some  excite- 
ment— "  The  atoms  of  disease  which  breed  death, — 
the  atmospheric  atoms  which  work  storm  and  earth- 
quake,— the  atoms  which  penetrate  the  brain-cells 
and  produce  thought, — the  atoms  moving  in  a  state 
of  transition  which  cause  change  both  in  the  de- 
velopment of  worlds  and  the  progress  of  man, — 
good  heavens ! — I  could  go  on  quoting  hundreds 
of  instances  which  prove  beyond  a  doubt  that  we 
are  entirely  governed  by  the  movement  and  con- 
glomeration of  atoms, — but  you  are  too  young  to 
understand, — you  could  never  grasp  the  advanced 
scientific  doctrines  of  the  day, — it  is  ridiculous  to 
discuss  them  with  a  boy  like  you  !" 

"  f  don't  think  it  is  ridiculous,"  said  Lionel, 
placidly — "because,  you  see,  I  am  rather  an  un- 
happy sort  of  boy.  I  think  a  good  deal.  If  I  were 
happy  I  might  not  think ;  Mr.  Montrose  says  there 


144  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

are  lots  of  boys  who  never  think  at  all,  and  that 
they  get  on  much  better  than  I  do.  But  when  one 
can't  help  thinking,  what  is  one  to  do  ?  Oh,  dear !" 
and  he  heaved  a  profound  sigh — "  I  did  hope  you 
would  be  able  to  clear  up  all  my  difficulties  for  me !" 

The  Professor  rubbed  his  great  hands  together, 
cracked  his  knuckles  and  coughed  awkwardly,  but 
was  otherwise  silent. 

"  You  know,"  went  on  Lionel,  pathetically — "  it 
doesn't  make  you  care  very  much  about  living,  if 
you  feel  there's  no  good  in  it,  and  that  you  are  only 
the  smallest  possible  fraction  of  the  results  of  an 
Atom  which  didn't  care  and  didn't  know  what  it 
was  about  when  it  started  making  things.  I  should 
be  ever  so  much  happier  if  I  thought  it  was  a 
Person  who  knew  what  He  was  doing.  We  are 
supposed  to  know  what  we  are  doing  even  in  very 
small  trifles,  and  if  we  don't  know,  we  are  con- 
sidered quite  silly  and  useless.  So  it  does  seem 
rather  funny  to  me  that  we  should  decide  that  all 
the  beautiful  work  of  the  universe  is  done  by  a 
twisty  thing  that  hasn't  any  notion  what  it  is  about. 
It  would  be  much  easier  to  understand,  I  think, 
if  the  scientific  people  could  agree  that  the  First 
Cause  was  a  Person  who  knew." 

Still  the  Professor  was  silent. 

"  A  Person  who  knew,"  continued  the  boy,  thought- 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  145 

fully — "  would  have  ideas ;  and  if  He  were  a  good 
Person,  they  would  all  be  grand  and  beautiful  ideas. 
And  if  He  were  an  eternal  Person,  He  would  be 
eternally  designing  new  and  still  more  wonderful 
things,  so  we  should  not  be  surprised  at  knowing 
He  had  made  millions  and  millions  of  stars  and 
universes.  And  if  He  were  good  Himself  He  would 
never  quite  destroy  anything  that  had  good  in  it, — 
He  would  be  kind  too,  and  He  would  always  be  im- 
proving and  helping  on  everything  He  had  made. 
Because  as  a  Person  He  would  have  feeling; — and 
when  people  get  into  trouble,  or  sickness,  or  poverty, 
He  would  comfort  them  somehow.  We  might  not 
see  how  He  did  it,  but  He  would  be  sure  to  manage 
it.  He  could  not  help  being  sorry  for  sorrow  if  He 
were  a  good  Person.  Yes, — the  more  I  think  of  it 
the  more  likely  it  seems  to  me; — beautiful  flowers 
and  beautiful  colours  in  the  sky,  and  music, — these 
things  make  the  idea  of  a  Person  much  pleasanter 
and  more  natural  to  me  than  an  Atom." 

"  An  Atom  may  be  a  Person  or  a  Person  an  Atom," 
said  the  Professor,  beguiled  involuntarily  into  argu- 
ment, by  the  weird  sagaciousness  and  old-mannish 
air  of  the  little  lad  who  still  stood  confidently  close 
to  his  knee  looking  frankly  up  into  his  hard  furrowed 
face,  and  who  at  this  observation,  laughed  softly. 

"That  sounds  like  Mr.  Skeet,  who  said  everything 
G  k  13 


146  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

was  nothing  and  nothing  was  everything !"  he  re- 
marked— "  But  I  don't  think  it  could  be  so,  you 
know.  You  can't  make  anything  of  an  Atom  but 
the  twisty  object  the  microscope  shows  you, — you 
couldn't  say  it  thinks  or  sees.  It  would  have  to 
think  and  see  to  arrange  colours  perfectly,  and  it 
would  have  to  hear  in  order  to  make  harmonies. 
I've  gone  over  all  this  ever  so  many  times  in  my 
own  mind,  and  this  is  how  it  seems  to  me.  I  be- 
lieve,— I  do  really  believe,  with  all  the  wonderful 
discoveries  we  are  making,  we  shall  find  out  the 
Atom  to  be  a  Person  after  all !  And  that  He  knows 
exactly  what  He's  doing  and  what  we're  doing! 
What  a  good  thing  that  will  be,  won't  it  ?  Because 
then  we  can  some  day  ask  Him  to  explain  all  that 
we  don't  understand.  Of  course  we  might  ask  the 
Atom,  but  I  don't  see  how  it  could  be  expected  to 
answer,  as  it  is  only  supposed  to  be  just  twisting 
about  with  no  object  in  particular." 

The  Professor  felt  an  odd  chill  as  of  cold  water 
running  down  his  back  at  the  strange  arguments  of 
this  child,  whom  he  began  to  consider  "  uncanny." 
The  suggestion  that  it  would  be  "  a  good  thing  "  if 
the  scientific  Atom  were  discovered  to  be  a  Person, 
had  something  in  it  of  positive  terror,  and  the  learned 
Cadman-Gore  was  disagreeably  conscious  that  for 
him  and  his  particular  "  set"  such  a  discovery  would 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  147 

be  anything  but  pleasant.  Uncomfortable  thoughts 
occurred  to  him, — he  knew  not  why, — of  the  time 
when  he,  dry-souled  man  of  dogmatic  theory  though 
he  now  was,  had  been  a  small  inquisitive  boy  him- 
self,— and  when  he  had  recognised  the  very  Person 
Lionel  dimly  imagined, — the  pure,  fearless,  grand 
image  of  God  in  Christ,  to  whom  at  his  mother's 
knee  he  had  daily  and  nightly  prayed, — but  against 
whose  divine  faith  and  noble  teaching,  he,  led  away 
by  plausible  modern  sophistries,  now  turned  with  a 
mockery  and  sarcasm  exceeding  the  bitterness  of 
any  old-world  Pharisee.  For  he  was  one  of  that 
new  and  "  select "  band  of  men  and  women,  who, 
enjoying  the  singular  liberties  and  privileges  of  the 
Christian  creed,  are  nevertheless  unwearying  in  their 
attempts  to  destroy  it,  and  who  scruple  not  to  stone 
the  God- Founder,  and  crucify  Him  afresh  with  an  in- 
gratitude as  monstrous  as  it  is  suicidal.  Women 
especially,  who,  but  for  Christianity,  would  still  be 
in  the  low  place  of  bondage  and  humiliation  formerly 
assigned  to  them  in  the  barbaric  periods,  are  most 
of  all  to  be  reproached  for  their  wicked  and  wanton 
attacks  upon  their  great  Emancipator,  who  pitied 
and  pardoned  their  weaknesses  as  they  had  never 
been  pitied  or  pardoned  before.  And  was  not  the 
Professor  himself  thinking  seriously  of  espousing 
one  such  Christ-scorning  female  with  short  hair  and 


1 48  THE  MIGHTY  A  TOM. 

spectacles,  who  had  taken  high  honours  at  Girton, 
and  who  was  eminently  fitted  to  become  the  mother 
of  a  brood  of  atheists  who  like  human  cormorants 
would  be  prepared  to  swallow  benefits  and  deny  the 
Benefactor?  Such  disjointed  reflections  as  these 
chased  one  another  through  the  eminent  pundit's 
mind  and  ruffled  his  scholarly  equanimity, — he  al- 
most felt  as  if  he  would  like  to  shake  the  boy  who 
stood  there,  calmly  propounding  puzzles  which  could 
never  be  solved. 

"  You  have  talked  quite  enough  on  this  subject," 
he  said,  roughly — "  and  if  you  were  to  ask  me  ques- 
tions for  a  year,  I  could  tell  you  no  more  than 
science  teaches.  All  religions  are  fables  and  impos- 
tures,— the  universe  is  not  and  could  never  be  the 
work  of  a  Person  or  persons.  The  ignorant  may 
build  themselves  up  a  God  if  they  choose, — we  know 
better.  All  creation,  as  you  have  already  been  told, 
is  the  result  of  a  fortuitous  concurrence  of  atoms, — 
but  where  the  first  atom  is,  or  where  any  of  the 
atoms  came  from  is  beyond  human  ingenuity  to  dis- 
cover. We  know  nothing  of  the  reasons  why  we 
live." 

Lionel's  face  grew  very  pale. 

"  Then  life  is  a  very  cruel  thing,  and  not  worth 
having,"  he  said — "  It  is  wicked,  indeed,  that  people 
should  be  born  at  all,  if  no  good  is  to  come  of  it.  If 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  149 

there's  no  reason  for  anything,  and  no  future  object 
for  anybody,  I  don't  see  why  we  should  take  the 
trouble  to  live.  It's  all  a  mistake  and  a  muddle,  and 
a  very  stupid  business,  I  think." 

The  Professor  rose  from  his  chair  and,  stretching 
his  long  legs  at  ease,  smiled  a  capacious  smile. 

"  What  you  think  is  of  no  import,"  he  observed, 
grandiloquently — "  We  are  here, — and  being  here, 
we  must  make  the  best  of  our  time." 
V"  But  what  you  think  is  of  no  import,  either,"  re- 
turned Lionel,  simply — "  The  Atom  doesn't  care  any 
more  about  you  than  it  does  about  me./^It's  all  the 
same,  you  see.  You  are  clever  and  I  am  stupid, — 
and  you  are  clever,  I  suppose,  because  you  like  to 
please  people  by  your  cleverness, — now  I  should 
never  care  about  pleasing  people, — I  would  rather 
*  ^please  the  Atom  if  it  could  be  pleased,  because  it  is 
Everything,  people  included.  But  it  can't  be  pleased, 
because  it  is  blind  and  deaf  and  senseless, — it  just 
goes  on  twirling,  twirling,  and  doesn't  know  anything 
even  about  itself.  And  whatever  best  we  make  of 
our  time,  it's  no  use,  because  we  die,  and  there's  an 
end.  Will  you  like  to  die?" 

The  Professor  felt  himself  becoming  impatient  and 
irascible. 

"  Certainly  not !     No  sane  man  likes  to  die.     I 
intend  to  live  as  long  as  possible." 

13* 


150  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

"  Do  you,  really  ?  Just  fancy  !"  and  Lionel's  eyes 
grew  larger  with  genuine  astonishment — "  Now  how 
different  that  is  to  me! — I  would  much  rather  die 
than  .live  to  be  as  old  and  wise  as  you  are!" 

"  Do  you  mean  to  be  insolent,  sir  ?"  demanded  the 
Professor,  growing  suddenly  livid  with  anger. 

"  Insolent?  Oh,  dear,  no  !  indeed,  no !"  exclaimed 
the  boy,  quickly — "  Did  I  say  anything  rude  ?  If  I 
did,  I  am  sorry !  Please  excuse  me, — I  meant  no 
harm.  Only  I  do  think  it  seems  dreadful  to  look 
forward  to  so  many  long,  long  years  of  work  and 
trouble  and  worry,  all  for  nothing, — and  that  is  why 
I  would  not  like  myself  to  live  to  be  very  old.  Are 
you  going  out  in  the  garden  ? — here  is  your  hat, — 
and  your  stick," — and  he  handed  these  articles  with 
a  pretty  grace  to  the  irritated  pundit  who  glowered 
down  upon  him,  uncertain  what  to  do  or  say — 
"  There  are  lots  of  beautiful  roses  growing  wild, — 
you  will  find  them  near  the  hedge  that  makes  the 
boundary  of  the  grounds, — any  quantity  of  them. 
Do  you  know  I'm  very  glad  the  Atom  managed  to 
make  roses  as  well  as  human  beings !" 

Professor  Cadman-Gore  clapped  his  hat  well  down 
on  his  bald  head,  and  fixed  his  severe  eye  on  the 
small  philosopher. 

"  Read  that  chapter  I  have  marked  for  you  in 
Caesar's  Commentaries,"  he  said,  gruffly — "  It  will 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  151 

steady  your  ideas.  You  are  inclined  to  be  flighty 
and  fantastic, — now  let  me  tell  you  once  for  all, 
I  don't  like  fads  or  fancies  of  any  kind.  Stick  to 
facts, — master  them  thoroughly, — and  it  is  possible 
I  may  make  something  of  you.  But  let  me  hear 
no  more  nonsense  about  atoms  and  universes, — 
this  world  is  your  business, — and  beyond  this  world 
you  have  no  business." 

With  that,  he  strode  out, — and  Lionel,  left  alone, 
sank  wearily  into  his  vacated  chair. 

"  It's  very  funny, — but  I've  always  noticed  people 
get  angry  over  what  they  can't  understand !"  he 
mused — "  And  they  won't  listen  to  any  sugges- 
tions, or  try  to  learn,  either.  The  Professor  knows 
as  well  as  I  do,  that  there  is  a  Cause  for  everything, 
— only  he  won't  take  the  trouble  to  reason  it  out  as 
to  whether  it's  an  Atom  or  a  Person.  He's  got 
a  theory,  and  nothing  will  alter  it.  Now  Reuben 
Dale  believes  in  a  Person, — I  wish  I  could  see 
Reuben  again  and  ask  him  one  or  two  questions." 

He  sighed  profoundly, — and  feeling  the  air  of  the 
room  oppressive,  he  opened  the  lattice-window  and 
looked  out.  It  was  high  noon-tide ; — the  sun  was 
hot  on  the  flower-beds, — the  geraniums  flared  scarlet 
fire, — the  petunias  drooped  fainting  on  their  slim 
velvety  stalks, — only  the  great  sunflowers  lifted 
themselves  proudly  aloft  to  give  their  bright  deity 


152  THE  MIGHTY  A  TOM. 

golden  stare  for  stare, — the  birds  overcome  by  the 
heat  were  mute,  and  in  hiding  under  cool  bunches 
of  green  leaves.  On  a  side-path  shaded  by  elm- 
trees,  Lionel  presently  caught  sight  of  the  Professor 
walking  up  and  down  with  his  father  in  earnest  con- 
versation, and  as  he  watched  them  he  smiled,  a  weird 
little  smile. 

"  They  are  talking  about  me,  I  daresay !"  he  re- 
flected— "The  Professor  is  very  likely  telling  my 
father  what  a  curious  boy  I  am  to  ask  him  questions 
about  the  Atom,  or  anything  that  has  to  do  with 
the  reasons  of  our  being  alive, — and  perhaps  they 
will  get  into  an  argument  on  the  subject  themselves. 
Well ! — it  may  be  curious,  and  no  doubt  it's  very 
troublesome  of  me  to  want  to  know  why  we  live 
and  what's  the  good  of  it, — but  I  can't  help  it.  I  do 
want  to  know, — I  don't  see  how  any  one  can  help 
wanting  to  know, — and  I  think  it  would  be  much 
"»  more  interesting  and  useful  to  study  and  find  out 
these  things  than  to  learn  Greek  and  Latin." 

Then,  being  a  very  docile  little  creature  and  wish- 
ful to  please  even  the  grim  old  tutor  now  placed  in 
h  authority  over  him,  he  moved  away  from  the  window, 
seated  himself  at  the  big  table-desk,  and  opened 
Caesar's  Commentaries  at  the  marked  chapter,  which 
he  read  and  meditated  upon  with  grave  patience  till 
called  to  dinner. 


y,.. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

THE  days  now  went  on  monotonously  in  a  dull  and 
regular  routine  of  study.  To  learn,  was  made  the 
chief  object  of  Lionel's  existence, — and  the  only 
relaxation  and  exercise  he  had  was  a  solemn  walk 
with  the  Professor  along  the  dusty  high-road  every 
afternoon.  That  distinguished  pedagogue  did  not 
care  for  woods  and  fields, — he  detested  the  sea, — and 
the  mere  suggestion  of  a  scramble  on  the  shingly 
beach  of  Combmartin  would  have  filled  him  with 
horror.  Nothing  could  ever  have  induced  him  to 
enter  a  row-boat  or  climb  a  hill, — and  his  sole  idea 
of  a  walk  was  a  silent  tramping  "  constitutional" 
along  a  straight  road  in  the  glare  of  the  sun.  He 
took  large  strides,  and  sometimes  Lionel's  little  legs 
had  difficulty  in  keeping  up  with  him, — while  as  to 
conversation,  there  was  none.  The  Professor's 
knowledge  of  things  in  general  was  derived  from 
books, — Lionel's  ideas  were  the  instinctive  efforts  of 
natural  aspiration, — and  the  two  did  not  commingle. 
Moreover,  if  his  young  pupil  showed  the  slightest 
tendency  to  discuss  any  more  difficult  and  vexa- 
tious problems  concerning  life,  death,  or  eternity, 
the  learned  Cadman-Gore  invariably  became  ab- 


154  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

stracted  and  lost  in  the  profoundest  of  profound 
reveries,  and  twitched  his  brows  and  sucked  his 
tongue  and  made  himself  look  altogether  so  alarm- 
ingly ugly  that  he  successfully  warned  off  and  kept 
at  a  distance  all  undue  familiarity  and  confidence. 
Lionel,  however,  had  by  this  time  discovered  the 
wisdom  of  holding  his  peace, — he  shut  up  his 
thoughts  within  himself,  though  at  times  they  seemed 
to  be  getting  too  much  for  him,  and  often  kept  him 
awake  at  night,  giving  him  an  odd  burning  pain  and 
heaviness  in  his  head.  And  the  old  lassitude  and 
languor  from  which  he  was  wont  to  suffer  had  re- 
turned upon  him  with  redoubled  intensity,  while  the 
vivacity  and  brightness  with  which  he  had  astonished 
his  tutor  on  the  first  morning  of  his  examination  by 
that  eminent  "  coach,"  had  completely  vanished.  His 
progress  now. was  slow, — and  the  Professor  declared 
him  to  be  a  "  disappointment."  As  a  matter  of  fact 
the  poor  little  lad  found  his  tasks  growing  heavier 
and  heavier  each  day, — each  day  he  felt  less  inclined 
to  work, — and  the  mass  of  information  he  was  ex- 
pected to  master  grew  daily  more  and  more  of  a  con- 
fusion and  muddle.  At  times,  too,  he  was  conscious 
of  a  very  dreadful  sensation  which  frightened  him, — 
a  kind  of  wild  desire  to  scream  aloud,  jump  from  the 
open  window,  or  do  something  that  would  be  wholly 
unlike  himself  and  inexplicable  to  reason.  At  such 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  155 

moments  he  would  clench  his  small,  hot  hands  hard, 
bite  his  lips,  and  apply  himself  more  assiduously  to 
his  lessons  than  ever,  though  the  nervous  terror  of 
his  own  feelings  often  became  so  strong  as  to  make 
him  tremble  and  turn  cold  from  head  to  foot.  But 
he  never  complained ; — and  save  that  to  a  close  ob- 
server his  eyes  appeared  heavier  and  his  mouth 
more  set  in  the  pained  line  of  hard  self-control,  his 
looks  never  betrayed  him. 

One  fine  day  fortune  favoured  him  with  a  brief 
respite  from  toil  and  an  equally  brief  glimpse  of  hap- 
piness. His  father  and  Professor  Cadman-Gore 
suddenly  decided  to  go  on  an  excursion  together  to 
Lynmouth  and  Lynton,  called  by  some  enthusiasts 
"the  Switzerland  of  England,"  though  this  term  is 
sadly  misapplied.  The  snowy  peaks  and  glittering 
glaciers  of  the  Alps  cannot  be  brought  into  a  mo- 
ment's comparison  with  the  up-hill  and  down-dale 
prettinesses  of  Lynton,  which  is  surpassed  even  in  its 
own  neighbourhood  by  the  romantic  loveliness  of 
the  ideal  village  known  as  Clovelly,  while  its  over- 
abundance of  foliage  makes  it  somewhat  gloomy  and 
depressing  to  the  spirits,  though  it  offers  a  beautiful 
picture  to  the  eyes.  The  Professor,  however,  was 
anxious  to  test  its  claim  to  be  a  "  Switzerland"  per- 
sonally,— and  Mr.  Valliscourt,  who  prided  himself 
on  having  "  read  up "  the  local  centres  of  interest, 


156  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

resolved  to  accompany  him  as  "  guide,  philosopher, 
and  friend."  They  arranged,  therefore,  to  go  by 
coach,  remain  the  night  at  the  "  Castle  Hotel," 
which  commands  the  finest  view  of  the  whole  valley 
of  Lynmouth,  and  return  to  Combmartin  the  follow- 
ing morning.  Lionel  was  left  well  supplied  with 
work,  and  was  likewise  severely  warned  not  to  go 
further  astray  than  the  garden  surrounding  the 
house, — Mrs.  Valliscourt  had  driven  early  into  Ilfra- 
combe  to  spend  the  day  with  some  of  her  London 
friends  who  were  staying  there,  and  she  was  not  ex- 
pected back  till  late  in  the  evening. 

"  You  will  have  the  house  to  yourself, — and  this 
will  be  an  excellent  test  of  your  obedience,"  said  Mr. 
Valliscourt,  as,  when  he  was  prepared  to  start  on 
his  pleasure  trip,  he  stood  for  a  moment  frowning 
heavily  down  on  his  small,  pale  son — "  I  suppose 
you  know  what  is  meant  by  a  word  of  honour  ?" 

"  I  suppose  so,"  answered  the  boy,  with  a  slight 
weary  smile. 

"  Then  you  will  give  me  your  word  of  honour  not 
to  leave  these  grounds,"  went  on  his  father — "  This 
is  a  large  garden, — quite  sufficient  for  you  to  take 
exercise  in, — and  if  you  conscientiously  study  the 
subjects  selected  for  you,  you  will  not  have  much 
time  to  waste  in  rambling.  No  more  running  about 
Combmartin  like  one  of  the  common  village  boys, 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  157 

and  scraping  acquaintance  with  sextons, — do  you 
hear  ?" 

"  I  hear !"  said  Lionel. 

"  And  you  promise  not  to  leave  the  grounds  ?" 

"  On  my  word  of  honour !"  and  Lionel  again 
smiled,  this  time  almost  disdainfully. 

"  He  has  a  fairly  good  idea  of  the  obligations  of 
duty,"  put  in  Professor  Cadman-Gore,  gathering  to- 
gether his  shaggy  brows — "  I  consider  that  to  be  his 
strongest  point." 

Lionel  said  nothing.  He  had  nothing  to  say ; — if 
he  had  uttered  what  was  in  his  mind,  it  would 
neither  have  been  understood  nor  attended  to. 
Grown  men  have  little  patience  with  the  troubles  of 
a  child,  though  such  troubles  may  be  as  deep  and 
acute  as  any  that  are  endured  by  the  world-worn 
veteran.  Nay,  possibly  more  so, — for  sorrow  is  a 
strange  and  cruel  thing  to  the  very  young,  but  to 
the  old  it  has  become  a  familiar  comrade,  whose 
visitations,  being  of  almost  daily  occurrence,  are  met 
with  comparative  equanimity. 

When  at  last  his  father  and  the  Professor  had 
fairly  gone,  and  he  had  actually  seen  them  pass  the 
house  on  the  top  of  the  coach  being  driven  away 
from  Combmartin,  the  boy  was  sensible  of  a  sudden 
great  relief,  as  though  a  burden  had  been  lifted  from 
his  heart  and  brain.  He  leaned  out  of  the  school- 

'4 


158  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

room  window  inhaling  the  fresh  air,  and  his  weirdly 
thoughtful  little  visage  looked  for  a  few  moments 
almost  as  young  as  Nature  meant  it  to  be.  He  was 
sorry  his  mother  was  not  at  home, — he  would  have 
liked  to  run  down-stairs  and  find  her,  and  kiss  that 
beautiful  face  which  had  softened  into  such  unusual 
tenderness  for  him  when  he  had  returned  home 
from  his  stolen  holiday.  Perhaps  she  might  come 
back  early  from  Ilfracombe, — he  hoped  she  would ! 
If  her  friends  did  not  detain  her  as  long  as  she 
expected,  it  was  possible  he  might  see  her  and  talk 
to  her  before  he  went  to  bed.  A  vaguely  com- 
forting idea  stole  into  his  mind  that  she — his 
own  dear,  beautiful  mother — loved  him  after  all, 
though  it  was  difficult  to  believe  it !  Very  difficult, 
— because  she  hardly  ever  spoke  to  him,  never  ex- 
pressed a  wish  to  have  him  with  her,  and  truly 
appeared  to  take  little  or  no  interest  in  his  existence. 
And  yet,  .  .  .  Lionel  could  not  forget  the  sweet 
look  of  her  eyes  or  the  sudden  kiss  she  had  given 
him  on  that  memorable  afternoon  of  his  truant  wan- 
derings, now  nearly  a  fortnight  ago.  He  sighed  ; — a 
whole  fortnight  had  passed ! — and  he  had  had  no 
cessation  from  work,  no  respite  from  the  crushing 
society  of  Professor  Cadman-Gore,  till  to-day !  To- 
day was  a  real  godsend,  and  must  be  made  the  best 
of,  he  said  to  himself,  as  he  gazed  wistfully  at  the 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  159 

lovely  undulations  of  wood  and  hill  and  meadow,  all 
bathed  in  the  amber  haze  of  summer  warmth  which 
softened  every  feature  of  the  landscape  and  made  it 
look  more  dream-like  than  real.  The  sun  was  so 
bright  and  the  grass  so  green,  that  he  presently  de- 
cided to  go  and  study  his  lessons  in  the  garden, — 
and  selecting  a  couple  of  books  from  the  pile  which 
the  Professor  had  left  in  order  on  the  school-room 
table,  he  put  them  under  his  arm  and  went  out.  He 
drew  a  long  breath  of  pleasure  when  he  found  him- 
self in  the  side-path  running  parallel  to  the  boundary 
hedge  where  the  roses  grew, — their  exquisite  fresh 
faces,  pink,  white,  and  red,  seemed  to  smile  at  him 
as  he  approached,  and  the  odour  exhaled  from  their 
dewy  centres  suggested  happy  fancies  to  his  mind. 
Strolling  up  and  down  in  delightful  solitude  he 
forgot  all  about  his  books,  or  rather  thought  of  them 
just  sufficiently  to  relieve  himself  from  the  burden 
of  them  by  putting  the  two  he  carried  aside  on  a 
garden-seat  there  to  await  his  pleasure.  And  pres- 
ently he  threw  himself  down  full  length  on  a  slop- 
ing bank  of  mossy  turf  warmed  by  the  sun,  and 
folding  his  arms  behind  him  let  his  head  rest  upon 
them  while  he  gazed  straight  up  into  the  infinite 
reaches  of  the  glorious  blue  sky.  There  sailed  a 
stray  bit  of  fleecy  cloud, — here  flew  a  swift-winged 
swallow, — and  immediately  above  him,  quivering 


160  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

aloft  among  the  sunbeams  like  a  jewel  suspended 
in  mid-heaven,  carolled  a  lark,  with  all  that  tender 
joyousness  which  has  inspired  one  of  the  sweetest 
of  our  English  poets  to  write  of  it  thus, — 

"  From  out  the  roseate  cloud,  athwart  the  blue, 

I  hear  thee  sound  anew 
That  song  of  thine  a-shimmering  down  the  sky, 

And  daisies,  touched  thereby, 
Look  up  to  thee  in  tears  which  men  mistake  for  dew. 

I  see  thee  clip  the  air  and  rush  and  reel, 

As  if  excess  of  zeal 
Had  giddied  thee  in  thy  chromatic  joys  ; — 

And  overhead  dost  poise 
With  outstretched  wings  of  love  that  bless  while  they  appeal. 

Thou  hast  within  thy  throat  a  peal  of  bells, 

Dear  dainty  fare-thee-wells  ! — 
And  like  a  flame  dost  leap  from  cloud  to  cloud : — 

Is't  this  that  makes  thee  proud  ? 
Or  is't  that  nest  of  thine,  deep-hidden  in  the  dells  ? 

Whate'er  thy  meaning  be,  or  vaunt  or  prayer, 

I  know  thy  home  is  there ; 
And  when  I  hear  thee  trill,  as  now  thou  dost, 

I  take  the  world  on  trust, 
And  with  the  world  thyself,  thou  foeman  of  despair !"  * 

The  leafy  branches  of  the  trees  were  delicately 
outlined   in   air   as  with  an    artist's  careful   pencil, 

*  ERIC  MACKAT.     From  "A  Song  of  the  Sea  and  Other  Poems." 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  161 

— no  breeze  stirred  them, — and  the  exceeding  loveli- 
ness of  nature,  without  man's  cruelty  to  mar  it,  gave 
the  boy's  heart  a  strange  pang.  If  the  jarring  voice 
of  his  father  had  suddenly  startled  the  silence,  some- 
thing dark  yet  undefinable  would,  he  knew,  have 
blotted  out  all  the  beauty  of  the  scene.  A  thrush 
alighted  near  him,  and  ruffling  out  its  speckled 
breast,  looked  at  him  inquisitively  with  its  bright 
round  black  eyes, — there  was  no  discordant  element 
in  the  bird's  intrusion,  but  there  would  have  been 
in  his  father's  presence.  He  tried  in  his  own  odd 
way  to  analyse  this  feeling,  and  started  on  his  usual 
themes  of  troubled  thought ; — did  his  father  really 
love  him  ? — did  his  mother  ? — was  there  any  good 
in  his  loving  them  ? — and  what  was  to  come  of  it 
all  ?  All  at  once,  as  he  lay  musing,  some  one  called 
him  by  his  pet-name, — 

"Lylie!     Lylie!" 

He  jumped  to  his  feet  and  looked  about  every- 
where, but  could  see  nobody. 

"  Ly-lee-e !" 

This  time  the  prolonged  sound  seemed  to  come 
from  the  boundary  hedge  against  which  the  roses 
grew,  and  where  there  was  a  mixture  of  many  other 
blossoms  such  as  are  found  growing  in  wild  and 
varied  beauty  all  along  the  lanes  in  Devonshire. 
He  went  close  up  to  it,  and  glancing  eagerly  hither 
/  14* 


1 62  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

and  thither,  suddenly  perceived  a  little  rosy  face  in 
an  aureole  of  gold-brown  curls,  cautiously  peep- 
ing through  a  tangle  of  white  jessamine  and  green 
bryony,  and  smiling  at  him  with  a  half-bold,  half- 
frightened  glee. 

"  'Ullo,  Lylie !  I  sees  'ee  !"  and  the  face  pushed 
itself  further  through  the  veiling  screen  of  foliage 
and  flowers—"  'Ullo,  Lylie." 

"  Why,  Jessamine  dear !"  exclaimed  Lionel,  flush- 
ing with  pleasure  at  the  sight  of  the  winsome  little 
maid  he  had  hardly  ever  expected  to  meet  again — 
"  How  did  you  manage  to  come  ?  How  did  you 
find  your  way  ?" 

Little  Miss  Dale  did  not  reply  immediately. 
Looking  round  in  every  direction  she  demanded, — 

"  Can't  I  git  right  froo  ? — an'  see  'oor  muzzer  ?" 

Lionel  thought  rapidly  of  the  chances  of  detec- 
tion,— of  the  gardener  who  might  be  acting  as  a 
spy  on  him  by  his  father's  orders, — of  the  other 
servants  who  might  also,  be  on  the  watch, — and 
though  not  at  all  afraid  for  himself,  he  had  no  desire 
to  get  Reuben  Dale  and  his  little  girl  into  trouble.  So 
he  went  down  on  his  knees  in  front  of  the  jessamine 
flowers  and  Jessamine  herself,  and  drawing  her  little 
baby  face  to  his  own,  kissed  it  with  a  simple  boyish 
tenderness  that  was  very  sweet  and  commendable. 

"  My  mother  isn't  here  to-day,"  he  said,  softly,  for 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  163 

fear  of  being  overheard — "  She's  gone  to  Ilfracombe 
to  see  some  friends  and  won't  be  back  till  evening. 
My  father  and  my  tutor  are  away  too,  and  I'm  all 
alone.  I've  promised  not  to  leave  this  garden,  or  I 
should  have  come  to  see  you,  Jessamine.  How's 
Mr.  Dale  ?" 

"  My  feyther's  quite  well,"  responded  Jessamine 
with  some  solemnity — "  He's  diggin'  another  grave, 
a  weeny  weeny  grave, — for  a  little  tiny  baby.  Oh, 
such  a  prutty  grave  it  be  !" 

She  sighed, — put  her  finger  in  her  mouth,  and 
raised  her  blue  eyes  pensively  like  a  dreaming 
angel. 

"  How's  'ee  feelin',  Lylie  ?"  she  asked,  presently, 
with  sudden  concern — "  you  looks  white, — very 
white,  Lylie,  you  looks, — like  my  muzzer  when  she 
went  to  Heaven." 

Lionel  smiled. 

"  I've  been  doing  a  lot  of  lessons,  Jessamine,"  he 
replied — "  That's  how  it  is,  I  suppose.  Books  make 
you  get  pale,  I  think.  You  never  read  books,  do 
you  ?" 

Jessamine  shook  her  head. 

"  I  can't  read,"  she  confessed — "  I  can  spell, — an' 
I  know  my  fairy-book.  Auntie  Kate  tells  me  my 
fairy-book  an'  God's  Book.  That's  all." 

Fairy-book  and  God's  Book !     Here  began  and 


1 64  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

ended  Jessamine's  literary  knowledge.  Lionel 
smiled,  as  the  grim  picture  of  Professor  Cadman- 
Gore  involuntarily  presented  itself,  and  he  thought 
of  the  disdain  in  which  that  erudite  individual  held 
both  fairy-books,  God's  Book  and  the  very  idea  of 
God,  that  wishdd-for  "  Person"  whom  Lionel  would 
have  preferred  to  recognise  rather  than  the  scientific 
Atom.  And  kneeling  on  the  warm  grass  that  was 
filled  with  the  small  unassuming  blossoms  of  pim- 
pernel and  eye-bright,  he  playfully  drew  a  handful 
of  Jessamine's  brown  curls  through  the  green  hedge 
and  tied  them  with  a  knot  of  her  own  namesake- 
flowers. 

"  Now  you  can't  go  away !"  he  said,  merrily — "  I 
have  fastened  you  up,  and  you  are  my  little  pris- 
oner!" 

She  peered  sideways  over  her  shoulder  at  what  he 
had  done  and  chuckled, — then  laughed  till  her 
pretty  cheeks  were  dented  all  over  with  dancing 
dimples, — and,  perfectly  satisfied  with  the  arrange- 
ment, she  settled  herself  down  more  comfortably 
among  the  leaves  with  a  dove-like  croon  of  pleasure. 

"  I  told  'ee  there  wos  a  'ole  in  the  'edge  where 
I  could  creep  froo !"  she  said,  triumphantly — "  This 
is  the  'ole !  It's  allus  bin  'ere.  I've  often  coom'd 
when  nobody's  by,  an'  got  roses  for  my  own  self. 
There  be  lots  o'  roses,  bain't  there  ?" 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  165 

This  with  an  inquiring  glance  and  suggestive 
pout. 

Lionel  took  the  hint,  and  springing  up,  ran  to 
gather  for  her  a  posy  of  the  prettiest  half-open 
buds  he  could  find, — then,  tying  them  up  with  a 
bit  of  string  he  had  in  his  pocket,  he  knelt  down 
again  and  gave  them  gently  into  her  hands.  She 
buried  her  tiny  nose  deep  among  the  scented  petals. 

"  O  how  bee-oo-ful !"  she  sighed  — "  'Ee'se  a 
rare  nice  boy,  Lylie ! — I  likes  'ee !  Where's  your 
Drojun  wors  now?" 

He  laughed  joyously — 

"Just  where  they  always  were,  dear,  I  expect!" 
he  answered, — "  I  don't  suppose  anything  will  ever 
move  them  out  of  Homer's  epic !  It's  always  the 
same  old  story,  you  know !" 

Jessamine  nodded  demurely. 

"  Always  the  same  ole  story !"  she  echoed  with  a 
comical  plaintiveness — "  I  'member ! — 'bout  a  bad 
lady  an'  big  men.  Oh,  Lylie !  there's  a  bee !" 

She  huddled  herself  and  her  roses  up  into  a 
heap,  her  pretty  little  face  expressive  of  the  direst 
dismay  as  a  big  boozy  bumble-bee  circled  round 
and  round  her  in  apparent  doubt  as  to  whether 
she  might  not  be  some  new  specimen  of  floral 
growth  full  of  delicious  honey, — and  Lionel,  arming 
himself  with  a  long  fern-leaf,  did  manful  battle  with 


1 66  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

the  winged  epicurean  till  it  became  thoroughly  con- 
vinced that  these  small  pretty  creatures  were  human 
beings,  not  flowers,  and  boomed  lazily  off  on  another 
quest  for  dainty  novelties. 

"  He  wor  a  bad  bee !"  said  Jessamine,  looking 
after  the  offending  insect,  and  slowly  relaxing  her 
close-cuddled  attitude — "  He's  got  all  the  flowers 
F  th'  garden, — an'  they  oughter  be  'nuff  for  him 
wizout  mine,  oughtn't  they  ?" 

"  Of  course  they  ought !"  agreed  Lionel,  feeling 
quite  happy  in  the  companionship  of  his  little  vil- 
lage friend,  as  he  parted  the  dividing  screen  of 
flowers  and  leaves  and  drew  closer  to  her — "  Tell 
me,  Jessamine,  did  you  come  all  by  yourself  across 
that  big  field  over  there  ?" 

"  'Iss !"  she  replied,  proudly — "The  field's  just 
'tween  th'  church  an'  this  big  'ouse  where  'ee  lives, 
— Auntie  Kate  calls  it '  short  cut.'  Sometimes  it's 
full  o'  cows,  an'  I'se  'fraid  of  'em, — an'  I  can't  coom, 
— but  to-day  there's  no  cows,  so  I  runned  all  th' 
way  to  see  'ee,  Lylie !"  and  she  looked  at  him 
affectionately — "  When's  'ee  coomin'  to  see  me  ?" 

Lionel's  bright  face  clouded.  "  I  don't  know, 
Jessamine !"  he  said,  sadly — "  I  wish  I  could  come, 
— you  don't  think  I  wouldn't  come  if  I  could ! — fast 
enough !  But  I  have  such  a  lot  of  lessons  to  do 
just  now — they  take  up  all  my  time, — besides,  I'm 


THE  MIGHTY  A  TOM.  167 

not  allowed  to  go  anywhere  except  with  the  Pro- 
fessor." 

"The  'Fessor?     Wot's  'e?"  inquired  Jessamine. 

"  He's  my  tutor, — a  very  clever  man,  who  teaches 
me." 

Jessamine  looked  puzzled. 

"  Well,  can't  the  'Fessor  coom  with  'ee  ? — an'  see 
me  an'  my  feyther  ?" 

"  I'm  afraid  he  wouldn't  care  to, — he's  a  very  old 
man " 

"/  know !"  interrupted  Jessamine,  with  a  nod  of 
her  head — "  He's  a  bad  ole  man, — he  doesn't  want 
to  see  me.  He's  like  the  bad  man  i'  th*  fairy-book 
wot  lost  the  babes  i'  th'  wood, — an'  he's  like  'oor 
feyther,  Lylie!  didn't  'ee  say  'oor  feyther  would 
scold  me  if  I  came  froo  this  'edge,  eh  ?" 

"  Yes, — and  I  expect  he  would  !"  said  Lionel. 

"  Then  he's  bad !"  declared  the  small  lady  with 
emphasis.  "  Nobody  oughtn't  to  scold  me,  'cos  I'se 
allus  tryin'  to  be  good."  Then,  with  a  sudden 
change  of  tone,  she  added,  "  Poor  Lylie !  I'se  so 
sorry  for  'ee !" 

There  was  something  strangely  moving  in  her 
voice,  and  Lionel,  always  sensitive,  felt  the  tears 
rising  very  near  his  eyes. 

"  Why,  dear  ?"  he  asked,  rather  tremulously, — 
while,  to  hide  his  feelings,  he  busied  himself  in  un- 


1 68  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

tying  the  twist  he  had  made  of  her  hair  and  the 
jessamine  blossoms. 

'  'Cos  I  fink  you'se  lonely, — an'  I'se  'fraid  you 
won't  see  me  never  no  more !" 

And  again  she  raised  her  blue  eyes  to  the  blue 
heavens  and  looked  as  if  she  saw  some  dawning 
splendour  there. 

Lionel  took  both  her  little  hands  in  his  own  and 
fondled  them.  There  was  a  sadness  at  his  heart, 
but  not  the  kind  of  sadness  she  seemed  to  sug- 
gest. 

"  You  mustn't  say  that,  Jessamine,"  he  murmured, 
gently — "  I'll  be  sure  to  see  you  again  often.  Even 
when  we  go  away  from  Combmartin,  I  sha'n't  forget 
you.  I  shall  come  back  and  see  you  when  I'm  a 
big  man." 

She  peeped  wistfully  up  at  him. 

"  You'se  be  a  long,  long  time  'fore  you'se  a  big 
man,  Lylie  !"  she  said. 

He  was  silent.  What  she  suggested  was  very 
true.  It  would  indeed  be  a  "  long,  long  time"  be- 
fore the  "  big  man"  stage  of  existence  came  to  him, 
if  it  ever  came  to  him  at  all.  He  was  perfectly  con- 
scious within  himself  that  he  did  not  want  to  be  a 
"  big  man," — and  that  it  was  quite  enough  sadness 
for  him  to  be  a  small  boy.  He  could  not  realise  the 
possibility  of  his  living  through  years  and  years  of 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  169 

work  and  worry  to  attain  this  end  of  mere  manhood, 
— and  then  to  go  on  through  more  years  of  worse 
work  and  worry,  just  to  become  old,  wrinkled,  and 
toothless,  and  drop  into  the  grave  forgetful  of  all 
that  he  had  ever  known  and  senseless  to  the  fact 
that  he  had  ever  existed.  He  was  entirely  aware 
that  most  people  went  through  this  kind  of  thing 
and  didn't  seem  to  mind  it, — but  somehow  it  did 
not  commend  itself  to  him  as  his  own  particular 
destiny.  If  there  were  another  life  to  be  taken  up 
after  death,  then  he  could  understand  the  necessity 
there  might  be  for  living  this  one  nobly, — but  the 
scientists  had  done  away  with  that  hope,  and  had 
declared  death  to  be  the  only  end  of  every  soul's 
career.  Thoughts  such  as  these  flitted  vaguely 
through  his  brain  while  he  knelt  in  front  of  Jessa- 
mine, holding  her  wee  warm  hands  in  his, — she  in 
her  turn  regarding  him  seriously  with  her  large  soft 
angelic  eyes.  Over  the  two  children  a  silence  and 
a  shadow  hung,  inexplicable  to  themselves.  Or  was 
it  not  so  much  a  shadow  as  a  brightness  ? — made 
impressive  by  the  very  stillness  of  its  approach  and 
the  mystic  glory  of  its  presence  ?  It  seemed  in- 
credible that  the  thorny  and  cruel  ways  of  the  world 
should  be  waiting  to  pierce  and  torture  these  inno- 
cent young  lives, — it  was  monstrous  to  imagine  the 
dreamy-eyed  tender-hearted  boy  growing  up  into  the 

H  IS 


170 


777,5  MIGHTY  ATOM. 


usual  type  of  modern  man,  the  orthodox  pattern 
demanded  by  the  customs  and  conventionalities  of 
his  kind, — and  still  more  repellent  was  the  idea  that 
the  sweet  baby-girl  with  her  pure  look  and  heavenly 
smile  should  be  destined  for  the  rough  lot  of  a  mere 
peasant  drudge,  so  to  pass  her  days  and  end  them 
without  a  touch  of  the  finer  essences  which  should 
nourish  and  expand  all  the  delicate  susceptibilities 
of  her  nature.  Was  there  nothing  better  in  store 
for  these  children  than  what  we  call  life?  Who 
could  tell !  If  the  deep  charm  which  held  them 
both  mute  could  have  dissolved  itself  in  music  some 
answer  might  have  been  given  ;  but  God's  meanings 
cannot  be  construed  into  the  language  of  mortals, 
hence  the  reason  of  many  expressive  silences  often 
encompassing  us, — silences  more  eloquent  than 
speech.  Presently  Jessamine  stirred  uneasily  in  her 
nest  of  leaves. 

"  I'se  goin'  now,  Lylie,"  she  announced. 

"Oh,  must  you  go  so  soon?"  exclaimed  Lionel — 
"  Can't  you  stay  a  little  longer  ?" 

Jessamine  pursed  up  her  rosy  lips  with  a  gravely 
important  air. 

"I'se  'fraid  not!"  she  said — "I'se  promised  to 
fetch  my  feyther  'ome  to  dinner,  an'  'e'l  be  waitin' 
for  me." 

"  Well,  will  you  come  back  again,  this  afternoon  ?" 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  171 

urged  the  boy — "  Come  back  about  four  o'clock  and 
I'll  be  here  to  see  you." 

The  little  maid  looked  coquettishly  doubtful. 

"I  doesn't  know  'bout  that!"  she  murmured, 
coyly — "  My  ole  'oss  'spects  me  this  arternoon." 

"  But  you  might  leave  the  old  horse  for  once  to 
come  to  me !"  pleaded  Lionel — "  You  know  I  may 
have  to  go  away  altogether  from  Combmartin  soon  !" 

"  'Iss !"  sighed  Jessamine,  her  eyes  drooping  de- 
murely,— then  with  a  quick  brightening  of  her  face 
she  added — "  Well,  I'll  try,  Lylie.  P'r'aps  I'll  coom 
an'  p'r'aps  I  won't  be  able  to  coom.  But  I'm  sure 
I'll  see  'ee  soon  again ;  I  won't  'ave  to  wait  till  you'se 
a  big  man.  I'll  see  'ee  long  'fore  then.  You  mustn't 
forgit  me,  Lylie !" 

"  Forget  you  !  Certainly  not !"  responded  the  boy, 
almost  ardently,  as  he  set  the  little  white  sun-bonnet 
straight  on  her  head  and  tied  the  strings  of  it  under 
her  pretty  chin — "  I  shall  never  forget  you,  dear  little 
Jessamine !" 

She  pushed  herself  further  through  the  hedge  on 
her  hands  and  knees,  and  smiled  up  at  him. 

"  Wouldn't  'ee  like  to  kiss  me  'gain,  Lylie  ?"  she 
demanded,  with  ineffable  sweetness. 

For  answer  he  put  his  arms  round  her  neck,  all 
among  the  blossoms,  and  tenderly  pressed  the  little 
cherry  of  a  mouth  so  frankly  uplifted  to  his  own. 


172  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

"  Good-bye,  Lylie !"  she  said,  then,  beginning  to 
scramble  out  from  among  the  leaves. 

"  Good-bye,  Jessamine !  But  not  for  long !"  he 
answered. 

"  Not  for  long !"  she  echoed — "  You'se  sure  not  to 
forgit  me,  Lylie !" 

"  Sure !"  declared  the  boy,  smiling  at  her  some- 
what sadly,  as  she  now  stood  upright  behind  the 
hedge,  and  her  little  figure  could  only  be  dimly  seen 
through  the  close  network  of  leaves.  She  turned  to 
go, — then  on  a  sudden  impulse  ran  back  and  with 
her  two  hands  made  a  round  peep-hole  through  the 
trailing  sprays  of  jessamine,  so  that  her  winsome 
baby  face  looked  literally  framed  in  her  own  blos- 
soms. 

"  Good-bye,  Lylie  !     Not  for  long !"  she  said. 

And  with  that  she  disappeared. 

Left  alone  once  more,  Lionel  did  not  feel  quite  so 
happy  as  he  had  done  before  his  little  visitor  came. 
Somehow  the  pretty  child's  quick  departure  grieved 
him, — he  longed  to  break  through  the  boundary 
hedge  and  run  after  her,  and  have  another  long  and 
happy  day  of  rest  and  freedom, — but  he  had  given 
"  his  word  of  honour"  to  his  father  not  to  leave  the 
grounds,  and  he  manfully  resisted  the  sore  tempta- 
tion that  beset  him.  Yet  certain  it  was  that  with 
Jessamine  the  light  of  the  landscape  seemed  to  have 


THE  MIGHTY  A  TOM.  1 73 

fled ; — a  sense  of  desolation  oppressed  him  ;  and  to 
distract  his  thoughts  he  took  up  the  two  books  he 
had  left  on  the  garden-seat  and  set  himself  to  study 
them.  But  in  vain, — his  mind  wandered, — he  could 
not  fix  his  attention, — and  he  began  watching  the 
graceful  movements  of  two  butterflies  that  flew 
in  and  out  among  the  roses, — pale  blue  pretty 
creatures  like  corn-flowers  on  wings.  And  all  at 
once  the  terrible  callousness  of  nature  forced  itself 
upon  his  attention  as  it  had  never  done  before,  and 
filled  him  with  gloom. 

"  Nothing  cares !"  he  thought — "  If  the  best  and 
wisest  person  that  ever  lived  were  in  trouble,  or 
were  to  die,  everything  would  go  on  just  the  same; 
— the  birds  would  sing  and  the  butterflies  dance, 
and  the  flowers  grow  and  the  sun  shine.  I  suppose 
that  is  really  why  they  have  fixed  upon  an  Atom  as 
the  first  cause  of  it  all, — you  can't  expect  an  Atom 
to  care !" 

He  moved  slowly  down  the  path  and  went 
towards  the  carriage-drive  where  plenty  of  deep 
shade  was  cast  by  a  double  row  of  broad  and 
full-foliaged  elms.  Outside  the  closed  carriage- 
gate  he  saw,  through  the  bars,  a  man  standing, 
holding  a  basket  in  one  hand  and  making  uncouth 
signs  to  him  with  the  other.  He  advanced  quickly, 
— then  as  quickly  stopped,  as  he  more  plainly  per- 

15* 


174  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

ceived  the  hideous  aspect  of  the  unhappy  creature 
who  confronted  him, — a  miserable  human  deformity 
with  twisted  tottering  limbs,  protruding  lack-lustre 
eyes  and  a  deathly  grin  upon  the  wide  mouth  which 
through  illness,  idiotcy,  or  both,  slobbered  and 
mumbled  continuously  and  incoherently.  The  head 
of  the  wretched  man  jerked  to  and  fro  with  an 
incessant  convulsive  motion, — in  the  basket  he  car- 
ried were  a  number  of  exquisite  white  roses,  to- 
gether with  several  large,  beautifully  polished  rosy 
apples,  the  fresh  loveliness  of  these  natural  products 
forming  a  strange  and  cruel  contrast  to  the  appear- 
ance of  their  ragged  and  miserable  vendor,  who 
continued  to  beckon  Lionel  with  his  twitching  hand, 
smiling  that  fixed  and  ghastly  smile  of  his  which,  no 
doubt,  he  meant,  poor  fellow,  as  an  expression  of 
deference  and  good-will.  But  the  boy,  chilled  to  the 
marrow  by  the  sight  of  such  an  unexpected  image 
of  horror  in  human  shape,  stood  stock  still  for  a 
minute,  staring — then  turning,  he  ran  with  all  his 
might  into  the  house  and  up  to  the  school-room, 
every  pulse  in  his  body  throbbing  with  nervous 
shock  and  repulsion. 

"  Oh,  it  is  quite  right — it  must  be  right !"  he 
gasped,  as  he  flung  himself  down  in  a  chair  and 
tried  to  forget  the  gruesome  figure  he  had  just  seen 
— "  It  is  an  Atom  that  created  everything ! — it 


THE  MIGHTY  A  TOM.  1 75 

couldn't  be  a  Person !  No  Person  with  pity  or 
kindness  could  allow  such  a  poor  dreadful  man  as 
that  to  live  on  and  suffer !  A  good  God  would  have 
killed  him !" 

He  shuddered,  hiding  his  face  in  his  hands.  His 
forehead  throbbed  and  burned, — the  burden  of  the 
horror  of  merely  human  things  suddenly  came  down 
upon  him  and  seemed  greater  than  he  could  bear. 
Human  toil,  human  torture,  human  weakness,  human 
helplessness,  all  endured,  for  nothing! — and  only  to 
end  in  death !  Life  then  was  a  mere  rack  in  which 
poor  humanity  was  bound,  tormented,  and  slain — 
uselessly !— for  so  indeed  must  Life  appear  to  all  who 
leave  God  out  of  it,  or  set  Him  aside  as  an  unknown 
quantity.  He  got  up  and  walked  to  and  fro  restlessly. 

"  How  wicked  it  is !"  he  mused,  his  young  soul 
fired  with  strange  and  feverish  indignation — "  How 
vile ! — to  make  us  live  against  our  wills  !  We  didn't 
ask  to  come  into  the  world, — it  is  shameful  we 
should  be  sent  here.  Unless  there  were  some  reason 
for  it, — but  there's  none ;  if  there  were  one  it  would 
surely  be  explained.  A  reasonable  Person  would 
explain  it.  Reuben  Dale  believes  there's  a  reason 
and  thinks  it's  all  right, — but  then  he's  quite  igno- 
rant— he  doesn't  know  any  better.  I  wonder  what  he 
would  say  about  that  beggar-man  ? — could  -he  tell 
why  his  God  made  such  a  dreadful  creature  ?" 


1 7  6  THE  MIGHTY  A  TOM. 

He  stopped  in  his  uneasy  rambling,  and  struck  by 
a  sudden  thought  went  downstairs  in  search  of  a 
particular  book.  He  looked  in  the  drawing-room, 
and  in  his  father's  study,  and  everywhere  where 
books  were  kept,  but  vainly, — then,  still  possessed 
by  the  one  idea,  he  went  along  the  stone  passage  that 
led  to  the  back  of  the  house  and  the  servants'  offices, 
and  called  one  of  the  housemaids  who  had  always 
been  rather  kind  to  him. 

"  Lucy !  are  you  there  ?" 

"  Yes,  Master  Lionel !     What  is  it  ?" 

"  Have  you  got  a  Testament  you  can  lend  me  ?  I 
want  to  look  at  it  just  for  a  few  minutes." 

"  Why,  certainly !"  And  Lucy,  a  bright  whole- 
some-faced girl  of  about  twenty  came  out  of  the 
kitchen,  smiling — "  I'll  lend  you  my  school-prize 
one,  Master  Lionel, — I  know  you'll  take  great  care 
of  it." 

"That  I  will!"  the  boy  assured  her,  whereupon 
she  tripped  away,  and  soon  returned  with  a  book 
carefully  wrapped  up  in  white  tissue-paper.  She 
unfolded  this,  and  showed  a  handsome  morocco- 
bound  square  volume,  bearing  its  title  in  letters  of 
gold — "  New  Testament." 

"Don't  you  ink  it,  there's  a  dear!"  she  said — 
"And  give  it  me  back  when  you've  done  with 
it." 


THE  MIGHTY  A  TOM.  1 7  7 

Lionel  nodded,  and  returning  to  the  school- room, 
shut  the  door.  Then,  with  a  fluttering  heart  he 
opened  the  book.  What  he  looked  for  he  soon 
found, — the  story  of  Christ  healing  the  lepers. 
Leprosy,  he  had  been  taught,  was  the  most  fright- 
ful disease  known, — both  hereditary  and  infectious, 
it  was  a  deadly  scourge  that  tortured  the  limbs, 
distorted  the  countenance  and  made  of  the  human 
frame  a  thing  //zhuman  and  ghastly, — yet  Christ 
never  turned  away  in  loathing  from  any  miserable 
creature  so  afflicted.  On  the  contrary  He  healed 
all  who  came  to  Him,  and  sent  them  on  their  way 
rejoicing, — yet  on  one  such  occasion,  when  ten 
lepers  were  cleansed,  only  one  returned  to  give 
thanks  to  his  great  Benefactor.  Lionel  felt  that 
there  was  something  more  in  this  narrative  than 
was  quite  apparent  in  the  mere  reading  of  it, — 
something  subtle  and  significant  which  he  could 
not  quite  grasp,  though  he  began  to  reason  with 
himself — "  Is  it  because  we  are  ungrateful  that  life 
is  made  cruel  for  us, — or  what  is  it  ?" 

His  head  ached  and  his  eyes  smarted, — he  closed 
the  Testament  sorrowfully,  and  with  a  deep  sigh. 
"  It's  no  use  to  me,"  he  said — "  Because  though  it's 
all  very  beautiful,  my  father  says  it  isn't  true.  And 
in  one  of  the  books  I  have,  the  writer,  who  is  a  very 
clever  man,  says  it  isn't  at  all  certain  that  Christ 


1 78  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

ever  existed,  and  that  it  was  Peter  and  Paul  who 
invented  Him.  Oh,  dear  me !  I  wish  I  knew  what 
to  believe, — because  even  in  the  scientific  arguments 
no  one  man  agrees  with  the  other.  It's  all  a  muddle 
whichever  way  you  turn  !" 

He  went  downstairs  again,  and  returned  the  Tes- 
tament to  its  owner  with  a  gentle 

"  Thank  you,  Lucy." 

"  Did  you  find  what  you  wanted,  Master  Lionel  ?" 
asked  the  good-natured  girl. 

"  Not  exactly !"  he  answered — "  But  it's  all  right, 
Lucy — "  here  he  hesitated — "  Lucy,  did  you  see  a 
beggar-man  selling  roses  and  apples  just  now  out- 
side the  carriage-gate  ? — he  was  all  twisted  on  one 
side  and  had  such  a  dreadful  face !" 

"  Poor  fellow  !"  said  Lucy,  pityingly — "  Yes,  Mas- 
ter Lionel, — I  often  see  him.  He's  the  '  silly  man' 
of  the  village, — the  children  call  him  '  Hoddy- 
Doddy.'  But  he's  not  a  beggar,  though  he's  more 
than  half-witted, — he's  a  rare  good  heart  of  his  own, 
and  an  idea  of  what's  right  and  honest,  for  he 
manages  to  make  his  own  living  and  is  a  burden 
to  nobody.  It's  wonderful  how  he  manages  it, — I 
suppose  God  looks  after  him,  for  no  one  else 
does." 

"  God  looks  after  him !"  This  gave  Lionel  new 
subject-matter  for  reflection,  and  he  returned  to  the 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  179 

school-room  slowly  and  thoughtfully.  His  dinner  was 
brought  up  to  him  there,  and  afterwards  he  set  him- 
self to  work  at  his  lessons  assiduously.  Hot  head 
and  trembling  hands  did  not  deter  him  from  applica- 
tion,— and  he  worked  on  so  steadily  that  he  never 
knew  how  time  went  till  a  sudden  sick  giddiness 
seized  him  and  he  was  obliged  to  get  up  and  go  out 
in  the  garden  for  fresh  air,  lest  he  should  faint.  He 
found  then  that  it  was  four  o'clock,  and  remembering 
that  he  had  asked  Jessamine  to  come  back  to  the 
"  'ole  in  th'  'edge '  at  that  hour,  he  went  to  the  ap- 
pointed spot  and  waited  there  patiently  till  nearly 
five.  But  the  little  maiden  did  not  appear, — and  he 
was  quite  down-hearted  and  weary  with  disappoint- 
ment as  well  as  with  overwork,  when  at  last  he  went 
in  to  his  tea.  Lucy  had  prepared  that  meal  for  him, 
and  she  stood  looking  at  him  somewhat  compas- 
sionately as  he  listlessly  threw  off  his  cap  and  ap- 
proached the  table. 

"  I  should  get  to  bed  early  if  I  were  you,  Master 
Lionel,"  she  said,  kindly, — "  you  look  quite  tired 
and  wore  out,  that  you  do." 

"  I  want  to  wait  up  till  mother  comes  home,"  he 
answered. 

Lucy  fidgeted  about  and  seemed  uneasy  in  her 
mind  at  this. 

"  Oh,  I  think  you'd  better  not,"  she  observed — 


l8o  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

"  your  pa'd  be  very  angry  if  you  did.  You  know 
you're  always  to  be  in  bed  by  nine,  and  your  ma 
said  she  couldn't  possibly  get  back  before  eleven. 
You  go  to  bed  like  a  good  boy,  or  you'll  get  us  all 
into  trouble." 

"  Very  well !"  he  said,  with  an  indifferent  air — "  I 
don't  mind!  after  all,  it  isn't  as  if  she  cared,  you 

know.  If  she  cared "  here  quite  suddenly  his 

lip  began  to  tremble,  and  to  his  own  amazement  and 
indignation  he  burst  out  crying. 

The  warm-hearted  Lucy  had  her  arms  round  him 
in  a  minute. 

"  Why,  what's  the  matter,  dear  ?"  she  asked,  caress- 
ingly, drawing  the  sobbing  boy  to  her  good  wom- 
anly breast — "  Lor'  sakes  ! — how  you're  trembling ! 
There,  there !  don't  cry,  don't  cry !  you're  tired ; 
that's  what  it  is.  Poor  little  fellow! — you've  got  too 
many  lessons  to  learn  and  too  little  play.  I'm  real 
sorry,  that  I  am,  that  Mr.  Montrose  has  gone  away." 

"So  am  I,"  murmured  Lionel,  very  much  ashamed 
of  his  own  emotion,  though  he  was  child  enough  to 
feel  a  certain  pleasure  and  comfort  in  having  Lucy's 
kind  arm  round  him — "  I  liked  Mr.  Montrose." 
Here  he  choked  back  his  tears,  and  fingered  Lucy's 
brooch,  which  was  a  brilliant  masterpiece  of  the  vil- 
lage silversmith's  skill,  being  a  heart  with  a  long 
dagger  run  through  it,  the  said  dagger  having  the 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  181 

name  "  Lucy "  engraved  on  its  harmless  point. 
"  Who  gave  you  that,  Lucy  ?" 

"  My  young  man,"  replied  Lucy,  with  a  giggle — 
"  I'm  the  dagger,  and  I'm  supposed  to  have  run 
right  through  his  heart, — don't  you  see?  Isn't  it 
funny?" 

"  Very  funny !"  agreed  Lionel,  beginning  to  smile 
faintly. 

Lucy  giggled  afresh. 

"  That's  what  I  said  when  he  gave  it  to  me, — but 
he  was  very  cross,  and  told  me  it  wasn't  funny  at  all, 
— it  was  poetry.  You're  feeling  better  now,  aren't 
you,  dear  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes !"  and  Lionel  dried  his  eyes  on  her 
apron — "  Don't  you  mind  me,  Lucy.  I'm  only  a 
little  tired,  as  you  say.  I'll  have  my  tea  now." 

He  sat  down  to  table  and  made  such  a  brave  show 
of  being  hungry,  that  Lucy  soon  withdrew,  quite 
satisfied.  But  when  she  had  gone  he  ceased  eating, 
and  went  to  his  old  seat  in  the  window,  there  to 
dream  and  muse.  He  tried  conscientiously,  before 
the  evening  closed  in,  to  study  some  more  of  the 
"  subjects  "  Professor  Cadman-Gore  had  left  for  his 
consideration,  but  he  could  not, — his  head  swam  di- 
rectly he  bent  pver  a  printed  page,  so  he  gave  up  the 
attempt  in  despair.  He  watched  the  sun  sink  and 
the  stars  come  out,  and  then  went  willingly  enough 

16 


1 82  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

to  bed.  Before  he  shut  his  little  bedroom-window 
he  heard  an  owl  hoot  among  the  neighbouring 
woods  and  thought  what  a  pitiful  cry  it  uttered. 

"  Perhaps  it  is  like  me,  wondering  why  it  was  ever 
made  !"  he  said  to  himself — "  And  perhaps  it  thinks 
the  Atom  as  cruel  as  I  do !" 


CHAPTER  IX. 

TIRED  out  as  he  was,  sleep  came  reluctantly  to 
Lionel's  eyes  that  night.  There  was  an  odd  quick 
palpitation  behind  his  brows  which  teased  him  for  a 
long  time  and  would  not  let  him  rest, — it  seemed  to 
him  like  a  little  mill  for  ever  turning  and  grinding 
out  portions  of  facts  which  he  had  recently  com- 
mitted to  memory, — bits  of  history,  bits  of  gram- 
mar, bits  of  Euclid,  bits  of  Latin,  bits  of  Greek, — 
till  he  began  to  wonder  how  all  the  bits  would  piece 
themselves  together  and  make  a  comprehensive 
ground-work  for  further  instruction.  By-and-by  he 
found  himself  considering  how  very  stupid  it  was  of 
Richard  Coeur  de  Lion  to  make  so  much  fuss  over 
the  Holy  Sepulchre,  when  now  there  were  so  many 
clever  men  alive  who  were  all  agreed  that  Christ 
was  a  myth,  and  that  there  never  was  any  Holy 
Sepulchre  at  all !  What  a  very  dense  king  was 
Richard  ! — what  a  brave  dunce  ! — with  his  perpetual 
oath  "  Par  le  Splendeur  de  Dieu !"  While  all  the 
time,  if  he  had  only  known  it,  the  Atom  was  just  a 
mechanical  twisty  thing  with  no  "  Splendeur  de 
Dieu"  about  it !  And  oh,  what  a  wicked  waste  of 

183 


1 84  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

life  there  had  been ! — what  terrific  martyrdoms  for 
the  "  Faith"  ! — merely  to  end  in  an  age  which  was 
scientifically  prepared  to  deny  and  utterly  condemn 
all  spiritual  and  supernatural  beliefs  whatsoever! 
Gradually  and  by  gentle  degrees,  Cceur  de  Lion  and 
the  "  Splendeur  de  Dieu,"  and  the  Atom  and  Jessa- 
mine Dale,  with  bits  of  facts,  and  bits  of  Professor 
Cadman-Gore's  unhandsome  features  curiously  joined 
on  to  the  dreadful  physiognomy  of  the  "  silly  man" 
of  the  village,  got  jumbled  all  together  in  inextrica- 
ble confusion,  and  the  little  tiresome  mill  in  his  head 
turned  slower  and  slower  and  presently  ceased  to 
grind, — and  he  fell  into  a  profound  slumber, — the 
deep,  stirless  trance  of  utter  exhaustion.  So  dead 
asleep  was  he  that  a  voice  calling  "  Lylie !  Ly- 
lie !"  only  reached  his  consciousness  at  last  as 
though  it  were  a  faint  far-off  sound  in  a  dream, — 
and  .not  till  the  call  had  been  repeated  many  times 
did  he  start  up,  rubbing  his  heavy  eyelids  and  gazing 
in  speechless  alarm  at  a  mysterious  cloaked  figure 
bending  over  his  bed.  The  room  was  dark  save  for 
the  moonlight  that  struck  one  wide  slanting  beam 
across  the  floor,  and  he  could  not  for  a  moment  im- 
agine what  strange  and  spectral  visitant  thus  roused 
him  from  his  rest.  But  before  he  had  time  to  think, 
the  figure's  arms  were  round  him,  and  its  voice  mur- 
mured tenderly, — 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  185 

"  Lylie !  Have  I  frightened  you  ?  Poor  boy ! — 
poor  baby !  Don't  you  know  me  ?" 

"  Mother !"  And  in  his  sudden  surprise  and  joy 
he  sprang  up  half  out  of  bed  to  return  her  embrace. 
"  How  good  of  you  to  come  and  see  me ! — and  you 
haven't  even  taken  your  hat  and  cloak  off!  Did 
Lucy  tell  you  I  wanted  to  wait  up  for  you  ?" 

"  No, — Lucy  didn't  tell  me,"  answered  Mrs.  Vallis- 
court,  drawing  him  more  closely  to  her  breast — 
"  Poor  child,  how  thin  you  are !  Such  a  little  bag 
o'  bones  ! — You  mustn't  catch  cold, — curl  yourself 
under  my  cloak,  so !  There !  Now,  Lylje,  I  want 
you  to  be  very  quiet  and  listen  to  me  attentively, 
will  you  ?" 

"  Yes,  mother !" 

Cuddled  under  the  warm  cloak  with  her  arms 
round  him,  Lionel  was  in  a  state  of  perfect  happi- 
ness,— this  unexpected  nocturnal  visit  seemed  too 
good  to  be  true.  He  was  secretly  astonished  but 
entirely  glad, — he  had  never  dreamed  of  the  possi- 
bility of  so  much  consolation  and  delight. 

"  You  feel  so  small !"  said  his  mother  then  with 
a  tremulous  laugh — "  In  your  little  nightgown  you 
seem  just  a  mere  bundle  of  a  baby, — the  very  same 
sort  of  bundle  I  used  to  carry  about  and  be  so  proud 
of.  You  were  a  baby  once,  you  know !" 

Lionel  nestled  closer  and  kissed  her  soft  hand. 
16* 


1 86  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

"  Yes,  mother,  I  suppose  I  was !" 

"  Well,  now,  Lylie,"  she  went  on,  speaking  rapidly 
and  in  low  tones — "  You  must  try  and  understand 
all  I  say  to  you.  I  am  going  away,  dear, — for  a 
time  ...  on  a  visit  ....  with  a  friend  who  wishes 
to  make  me  happy.  I'm  not  very  happy  just  at 
present,  .  .  neither  are  you,  I  daresay,  .  .  you  see 
your  father  is  exceptionally  clever  and  good" — and 
her  voice  here  rang  with  a  delicate  inflection  of 
mockery — "  and — very  naturally, — he  does  not  care 
much  for  people  who  are  not  equally  clever  and 
good, — so  it  makes  it  difficult  to  get  on  with  him 
sometimes.  He  does  not  like  me  to  sing  and  dance 
and  amuse  myself  any  more  than  he  likes  you  to 
play  games  with  other  boys.  You  are  too  young  to 
go  about  by  yourself  and  have  a  good  time, — yet, — 
but  by-and-by  you  will  grow  up  and  you  will  know 
what  a  good  time  means.  You  will  find  out  that 
when  people  get  very,  very  dull,  and  are  almost 
ready  to  kill  themselves  for  dulness,  their  doctors 
advise  them  to  have  a  change  of  scenery  and  a 
change  of  society.  That's  what  I  want.  Good 
people  like  your  father  never  want  a  change, — I'm 
not  good,  and  I  do !" 

Lionel  began  to  feel  pained  and  perplexed. 

"  You  are  good,  mother !"  he  said,  with  emphasis. 

"  No,  darling,  I'm  not,"  she  answered,  quickly — 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  187 

"And  that  is  just  what  I  want  to  impress  upon 
you.  I'm  not  good  ; — I'm  a  bad,  selfish,  cold-hearted 
woman.  I  don't  love  anybody — not  even  you  !" 

"  Oh,  mother !"  The  little  cry  was  piteous,  like 
that  of  a  wounded  bird. 

She  stooped  and  gathered  him  up  suddenly  in  her 
arms,  lifting  him  completely  out  of  bed, — and  hold- 
ing him  thus  with  an  almost  passionate  tenderness, 
rocked  him  to  and  fro  as  if  he  were  the  merest 
infant. 

"  No !"  she  said,  a  mingled  scorn  and  sweetness 
thrilling  in  her  voice — "  No, — I  don't  love  my  baby 
at  all, — I  never  did !  I  never  had  any  heart,  Lylie, 
— never !  I  never  rocked  you  in  my  arms  like  this 
all  day  and  kissed  your  dear  little  rosy  feet  and 
hands,  and  sang  you  to  sleep  with  all  the  funny  little 
nonsense  songs  I  knew !  No,  my  pet !  I  never 
loved  you, — I  never  did, — I  never  shall !" 

And  bending  down  she  kissed  him  again  and 
again  with  a  burning  force  and  fervour  that  frightened 
him.  He  dared  not  move,  she  clasped  him  so  con- 
vulsively,— and  he  dared  not  speak,  for  as  the  moon- 
beams glittered  on  her  face  he  saw  that  she  was 
deadly  pale  and  that  her  eyes  looked  wild, — he 
feared  she  was  ill, — an  instinctive  feeling  that  some- 
thing terrible  was  about  to  happen  made  his  heart 
beat  fast,  and  he  trembled  violently. 


1 88  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

"Are  you  cold,  dear?"  she  murmured,  sitting 
down  in  a  chair  by  the  bed  and  still  holding  him 
jealously  in  her  embrace — "  There !"  and  she  drew 
the  ample  folds  of  her  fur-lined  cloak  more  snugly 
around  him  with  all  the  cosseting  fondness  of  an 
adoring  mother — "  That's  cosier,  isn't  it,  little  one  ? 
Now,  let  ms  finish  my  talk.  You  know,  Lylie  dear, 
when  you  were  a  baby  I  used  to  have  you  all  to  my- 
self, and  that  made  a  great  difference  to  me — I  was 
quite  happy  then.  I  used  to  plan  such  pretty  things 
for  you, — I  had  so  many  hopes,  too — oh,  so  many ! 
I  was  only  a  girl  when  you  came  to  me,  and  girls 
often  have  pretty  fancies.  And  you  were  such  a 
darling  baby, — so  plump  and  round  and  rosy — and 
merry! — oh,  so  merry!  And  I  was  very  proud  of 
you  and  very  jealous,  too, — I  used  to  nurse  you  and 
dress  you  all  myself  because  I  could  not  bear  the 
idea  of  any  common  paid  woman  taking  care  of  you. 
And  when  you  began  to  speak  I  did  not  want  you 
to  be  taught  lessons, — I  wanted  you  to  play  all  day 
and  grow  big  and  strong, — just  as  I  often  wanted  to 
dance  and  sing  myself.  But  your  father  made  up 
his  mind  that  you  were  to  be  a  very  clever  man,  and 
he  had  you  taught  all  sorts  of  things  as  soon  as  you 
could  spell.  And  so  gradually  I  lost  my  baby.  And 
I  never  cared — afterwards.  I  cared  a  good  deal  at 
first,  because  I  saw  you  were  getting  thin  and  pale 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  189 

and  tired-looking, — but  it  was  no  use — so  I  gave  up 
caring.  I  don't  care  now, — because  you  see  you  are 
growing  quite  a  man,  Lylie,  though  you  are  not 
eleven  yet, — poor  little  man  ! — and  you  won't  want 
me  at  all.  I  am  only  in  your  way,  and  I  am  always 
vexing  your  father  and  making  trouble  by  giving 
my  opinions  about  you  and  your  studies.  That  is 
one  of  the  reasons  why  I  am  going  on  this — this 
visit, — just  to  enjoy  myself  a  little.  If  it  hadn't 
been  for  you  I  shouldn't  have  come  back  here  to- 
night,— but  I  couldn't  go  without  bidding  my  boy 
good-bye, — I  couldn't  /" 

She  said  this  wildly, — great  tears  filled  her  eyes 
and  dropped  heavily  one  by  one  among  Lionel's 
curls.  He  sat  up  in  her  arms,  his  little  bare  feet 
dangling  down  from  her  knee,  and  put  one  hand 
coaxingly  against  her  cheek. 

"  Are  you  really  going  to-night,  mother  ?  So 
late  ?"  he  asked,  plaintively — "  Must  you  go  ?" 

She  looked  straight  at  him  and  smiled  through 
her  tears. 

"  Yes,  I  must !  I  want  a  good  time  for  once  in 
my  life,  Lylie, — and  I'm  going  to  have  it !  I'm 
like  you, — I  want  a  long  holiday — no  lessons,  and 
no  tutors !" 

A  sense  of  impending  desolation  filled  his 
soul. 


190 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 


"  Oh,  mother,  I  wish  you'd  take  me  with  you !" 
he  said — "  I  do  love  you  so  much !" 

What  strange  expression  was  that  which  dark- 
ened her  beautiful  face  ?  Was  it  guilt,  shame  or 
despair  ? — or  all  three  in  one  foreboding  shadow  ? 

"  You  love  me  so  much  ?  Poor  boy,  do  you  ?  It 
is  strange, — for  I've  given  you  little  cause  to  love 
me.  You  mustn't  do  it,  Lylie ! — it's  a  mistake! — 
and — to-morrow  your  father  will  tell  you  why." 

She  was  silent  a  minute, — then,  glancing  at  the 
little  feet  that  gleamed  in  the  moonbeams,  frail  and 
white  against  her  dark  draperies,  she  took  them 
both  in  her  hand  and  kissed  them. 

"  Poor  cold  little  tootsies !"  she  said,  laughing 
nervously,  though  the  tears  still  glistened  on  her 
cheeks — "  I  mustn't  keep  you  too  long  out  of  bed. 
See  here,  Lylie" — and  she  drew  a  small  soft  parcel 
from  her  pocket — "  I  want  you  to  keep  this  in  some 
safe  place  for  me — till — till  I  come  back, — it  is  the 
only  remembrance  I  have  of  my  baby, — when  you 
were  a  baby.  I  was  a  very  proud  little  mamma  as  I 
have  told  you, — and  no  sash  in  any  of  the  London 
shops  seemed  good  enough  or  pretty  enough  for  my 
boy.  So  I  had  this  one  specially,  woven  on  one  of 
the  French  looms  after  my  own  design  for  you 
to  wear  with  your  little  white  frocks.  It  is  blue 
silk,  and  the  pattern  on  it  is  a  daisy  chain.  Don't 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  !9I 

let  your  father  see  it,  but  keep  it  for  me  till  I  return 
and  ask  you  for  it.  I  don't  feel  like  taking  it  with 
me — where  I  am  going.  See, — I'll  put  it  under 
your  pillow,  and  you  must  hide  it  somewhere  in  the 
morning — will  you  ?" 

"  Yes,  mother.     But — but  will  you  be  long  away  ?" 

He  asked  this  timidly,  bewildered  and  frightened 
by  he  knew  not  what. 

"  I  don't  know,  darling,"  she  answered,  evasively — 
"  It  all  depends  !  Your  father  will  give  you  all  the 
news  of  me !  And  he  will  be  sure  to  tell  you  that 
you  mustn't  love  me,  Lylie ! — do  you  hear  that  ? 
you  mustn't  love  me  !" 

"  But  I  shall,"  he  said,  gently—"  Nobody  can 
prevent  it.  I  shall  always  love  you." 

She  sat  very  still  a  moment, — the  brooding 
shadow  heavy  on  her  face. 

"  You  think  so  now,"  she  murmured  more  to 
herself  than  to  him — "  Poor  boy — you  think  so  now 
— but  when  you  know " 

Then  she  caught  him  close  to  her  breast  and 
kissed  him. 

"  Now  for  the  downy  nest !"  she  said,  lifting  him 
up  and  laying  him  tenderly  back  into  bed  again,  her 
eyes  resting  upon  him  with  a  miserable  yearning, 
though  she  forced  a  strange  distraught  smile — "  All 
the  moonlight  shines  on  your  pale  face,  Lylie, 


I92  •  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

and  you  look — oh,  you  look  like  a  little  dead  child, 
my  darling ! — like  a  little  dead  child  !" 

And  suddenly  falling  on  her  knees,  she  threw  her 
arms  across  the  bed  and  dropping  her  head  upon 
them,  sobbed  as  though  her  heart  were  breaking. 

Poor  Lionel  shivered  in  every  limb  with  alarm  and 
distress, — his  sensitive  soul  was  racked  by  his  moth- 
er's anguish,  though  it  was  incomprehensible  to  him, 
— and  he  felt  as  if  indeed  it  would  be  better  to  die 
than  to  see  her  thus. 

"  Don't  cry,  mother !"  he  faltered  at  last,  faintly — 
"Oh,  don't  cry!" 

She  raised  herself  and  dried  her  eyes  with  a  hand- 
kerchief from  which  the  delicate  odour  of  violets 
came  floating,  sweet  as  the  breath  of  the  living 
flowers. 

"  No, — I  won't  cry,  darling !"  she  answered,  begin- 
ning to  laugh  hysterically,  "  I  don't  know  really  why 
I  should,  because  I  am  quite  happy — quite  !"  And, 
rising  to  her  feet,  she  fastened  her  cloak  about  her 
with  hands  that  trembled  greatly — Lionel  saw  the 
diamonds  on  her  white  fingers  shake  like  drops  of 
dew  about  to  fall, — "  I'm  going  to  have  a  splendid 
time  and  enjoy  myself  thoroughly !" — this  she  said 
with  a  curiously  defiant  air — "  and  whatever  happens 
afterwards  may  happen  as  it  likes, — I  don't  care !" 
She  repeated  the  words  with  hard  emphasis.  "  / 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 


193 


don't  care  !  Years  ago  I  should  have  cared — dread- 
fully,— but  I've  been  taught  not  to  care,  and  now  I 
don't.  '  Don't  Care  '  was  hung,  they  say, — but  as  far 
as  I'm  concerned  it  really  doesn't  matter  whether  one's 
hung  or  drowned,  or  dies  of  a  fever  or  a  surfeit, — it's 
all  the  same  a  hundred  years  hence  !"  She  lifted  her 
hands  to  her  head,  and  with  a  coquettish  touch  set- 
tled the  small  velvet  hat  she  wore  more  becomingly 
on  her  clustering  hair, — while  Lionel,  looking  up  at 
her  from  his  pillow,  saw  all  her  wonderful  beauty 
transfigured,  as  it  were,  in  the  ethereal  radiance  of  the 
moon,  and  as  he  looked  felt,  by  some  strange  in- 
stinct, that  he  must  try  to  hold  her  back  from  some 
unknown  yet  menacing  peril. 

"  Mother,  don't  go  !"  he  pleaded — "  Stay  to-night, 
at  any  rate  !  Wait  till  to-morrow, — oh,  do  mother ! 
Don't  leave  me !" 

He  stretched  out  his  emaciated  little  arms, — and 
his  eyes,  full  of  child-yearning  and  student  thought 
commingled,  appealed  to  her  with  a  speechless  elo- 
quence. She  bent  over  him  again  and  taking  his 
hands  pressed  them  close  to  her  bosom. 

"  Dear,  if  I  had  any  heart  I  shouldn't  leave  you," 
she  said — "  I  know  that.  But  I  have  none, — not  a 
scrap.  I  want  you  to  remember  this,  and  then  you 
will  not  feel  at  all  sad  about  me.  People  without 
hearts  always  get  on  best  in  this  world.  Your 
in  17 


1 94  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

mother  used  to  have  a  heart, — full  of  romance  and 
nonsense  and  sentiment  and  faith,  Lylie! — yes, 
dear,  even  faith.  Your  mother  was  a  very  ignorant 
woman  once,  so  ignorant  as  to  actually  believe  in  a 
God !  You  know  how  angry  your  father  is  with 
silly  folks  who  believe  in  a  God  ?  Well,  he  soon 
got  me  out  of  all  those  foolish  ways,  and  taught 
me  that  the  only  necessary  rule  of  life  was  Re- 
spectability. Oh,  you  don't  know  how  dull  Re- 
spectability can  be ! — how  insufferably,  hopelessly 
dull!  You  don't  know, — you  can't  understand  that 
when  the  only  object  in  life  is  to  be  respectable  and 
nothing  more, — no  other  ambition,  no  other  future, 
no  other  end, — it  becomes  deadly ! — even  desperate ! 
You  can't  understand — you  are  too  young, — poor 
Lylie ! — you  are  only  a  child, — and  I'm  talking  to 
you  as  if  you  were  a  man.  Good-bye,  dear !  Love 
me  for  to-night — you  may  love  me  a  little  just  till 
morning  comes, — I  like  to  think  you  are  loving  me, 
— Good-bye!" 

He  clung  round  her  neck. 

"  Don't  go,  mother !"  he  whispered. 

She  kissed  him  passionately. 

"  I  must,  Lylie !  I  should  die  or  go  mad  if  I 
didn't.  I  am  tired  to  death, — I  want  a  change !" 

"  But  you  won't  be  long  away  ?"  he  murmured, 
still  holding  her  fast. 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  195 

"  Not  long,"  she  replied,  mechanically ;  "  Not 
long !  See,  I'll  make  you  a  promise,  Lylie — I'll 
come  back  directly  your  father  sends  for  me !" — 
and  she  laughed, — a  little  cold  mirthless  laugh 
which  somehow  chilled  Lionel's  blood, — "  My  little 
boy, — my  pet, — you  must  not  cling  to  me  so! — 
you  hurt  me ! — I  cannot  bear  it — oh,  I  cannot  bear 
it!" 

A  faint  cry  that  was  half  a  sob  escaped  her,  and 
she  almost  roughly  unloosened  his  arms  from  about 
her  neck  and  put  him  back  on  his  pillow.  He  was 
pained  and  bewildered. 

"  Did  I  really  hurt  you,  mother  ?"  he  asked,  wist- 
fully. 

"  Yes, — you  really  hurt  me.  You — you  pulled 
my  hair" — and  she  smiled,  her  beautiful  eyes  shining 
down  upon  him  like  stars  in  the  semi-darkness — 
"  and  I  felt  as  though  your  little  fingers  were  pulling 
at  my  heart,  too !  Only  I  have  no  heart ! — I  forgot 
that, — but  you  mustn't  forget  it."  She  paused, — for 
at  that  moment  the  crunching  noise  of  wheels  was 
heard  outside  on  the  gravel  of  the  carriage-drive, — 
and  she  listened,  with  a  strange  wild  look  of  expec- 
tation on  her  face. 

"  You've  read  all  about  the  French  Revolution, 
Lylie,  haven't  you  ?  Oh,  yes,  poor  little  manikin, 
I  know  you  have! — I  daresay  you've  got  all  the 


196  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

troubles  of  Louis  Seize  by  heart.  You  remember 
when  the  tumbrils  or  death-carts  used  to  come  rat- 
tling along  the  streets  to  fetch  the  people  for  execu- 
tion ?  Well,  I  heard  the  wheels  of  my  death-cart 
just  now, — it  has  come  for  me, — and  I'm  going  to 
execution,  by  choice,  not  by  compulsion  !" 

Roused  to  sudden  energy,  Lionel  sprang  up  in 
his  bed. 

"  Mother,  mother,  you  sha'n't  go  !"  he  exclaimed, 
quite  desperately — "  I'll  come  with  you  if  you  do ! 
— you  mustn't  leave  me  behind  !" 

Her  fair  features  hardened,  as  with  a  determined 
grasp  she  caught  hold  of  him  and  laid  him  down 
again. 

"  Naughty  boy !"  she  said,  sharply — "  You'll  make 
me  very  angry,  and  I  shall  be  sorry  I  came  to  see 
you  and  say  good-night.  Lie  still,  and  go  to  sleep. 
If  you  love  me  you  must  obey  me !" 

Shivering  a  little,  he  turned  from  her  and  hid  his 
face  in  the  pillow,  shrinking  from  the  imperious 
regard  of  those  wonderful  eyes  of  hers  which  could 
flash  with  wrath  as  well  as  deepen  with  tenderness, 
— and  the  old  dull  sense  that  he  was  nothing  to  her 
and  less  than  nothing,  stole  upon  him  almost  un- 
awares. Presently,  moved  by  quick  penitence,  she 
stooped  towards  him  and  ran  her  fingers  caressingly 
through  his  curls. 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 


197 


"  There !  I  did  not  mean  to  be  cross,  Lylie  !  For- 
give me !  And  kiss  me  good-bye,  darling !" 

Silently  he  put  his  arms  round  her, — the  moon- 
light fell  pallidly  across  the  bed,  spectrally  illumin- 
ing the  faces  of  both  child  and  mother, — on  the  one 
was  written  with  touching  pathos  the  last  hopeless, 
helpless  appeal  of  innocence  and  grief, — on  the  other 
a  reckless  resolve,  and  a  callous,  despairing  self- 
contempt.  Life  gone  to  waste  and  ruin  through 
lovelessness  and  neglect ; — such  was  the  history  de- 
clared in  every  line  of  Helen  Valliscourt's  counte- 
nance, as  she  clasped  her  boy  once  more  to  her 
breast,  kissing  him  on  lips,  cheeks,  and  brow,  and 
ruffling  the  thick  soft  clusters  of  his  hair  with 
loving  lingering  fingers. 

"  Good-bye  ! — good-bye!"  she  whispered — "  I  have 
no  heart — or  it  would  break,  Lylie !  Good-bye,  my 
pet, — my  baby!  Love  me  till  to-morrow — good- 
bye!" 

With  this  last  "  good-bye" — she  tore  herself  reso- 
lutely away  from  him, — and  before  he  could  quite 
realise  it  she  had  gone.  He  lay  still  for  a  moment 
trembling, — then  on  a  sudden  impulse  left  his  bed 
and  ran  bare-footed  out  on  the  landing,  where  he 
paused  at  the  top  of  the  stairs,  frightened  and 
irresolute.  All  was  dark  and  silent. 

"  Mother !"  he  called,  faintly.  A  door  swung  to 
17* 


198  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

with  a  creaking  groan  and  rattle, — a  rising  wind 
sighed  through  the  crevices. 

"Mother!" 

The  plaintive  cry  was  swallowed  up  and  lost  in 
the  darkness, — but  as  he  listened,  with  every 
nerve  strained  and  every  sense  on  the  alert,  he 
heard  the  noise  of  trotting  horses'  hoofs  and 
carriage-wheels  apparently  retreating  at  a  rapid 
rate  up  the  Combmartin  road.  He  rushed  back 
to  his  room  and,  hastily  opening  the  window, 
looked  out.  It  was  full  moonlight, — every  object 
in  the  landscape  was  as  clearly  defined  as  in  broad 
day, — but  not  a  trace  of  any  human  creature  was 
visible.  The  night  air  was  chilly,  and  his  teeth 
chattered  with  cold, — but  he  was  hardly  aware  of 
this,  so  great  was  the  burden  of  sorrow  and  desola- 
tion that  had  fallen  on  his  heart.  He  raised  his 
eyes  to  the  clear  sky, — one  splendid  star,  whose 
glowing  lustre  was  scarcely  lessened  by  the  rays 
of  the  moon,  shone  immediately  opposite  to  him 
like  a  silver  sanctuary-lamp  in  heaven.  Owls 
hooted,  answering  each  other  with  dismal  per- 
sistence, and  scared  bats  fluttered  in  and  out 
among  the  trees  which  were  now  beginning  to 
sway  languidly  to  and  fro  in  a  light  breeze  coming 
up  from  the  sea.  And  the  impression  of  disaster 
and  gloom  deepened  in  the  boy's  soul, — and  once 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  199 

again  from  his  trembling  lips  came  the  piteous 
wailing  cry, — 

"  Mother !     Oh,  mother  !" 

Then  a  great  rush  of  tears  blinded  his  sight, — 
and  feeling  his  way  back  to  bed  through  the  salt 
haze  of  that  bitter  falling  rain,  he  shiveringly 
huddled  himself  into  a  forlorn  little  heap  of  misery 
and  sobbed  himself  to  sleep. 


CHAPTER   X. 

NEXT  morning  he  showed  few  signs  of  the  grief 
he  had  suffered  during  the  night.  True,  he  was 
much  paler  than  usual  and  very  silent, — but  being 
well  accustomed  to  hide  his  emotions  and  keep  his 
troubles  to  himself,  he  complained  of  nothing,  not 
even  to  Lucy,  when,  as  she  brought  him  his  breakfast, 
she  said,  in  rather  a  flurried  manner, — 

"  Your  ma  came  home  last  night,  Master  Lionel, 
and  went  away  again, — what  do  you  think  of  that  ?" 

"  I  don't  think  anything,"  he  replied,  wearily — 
"  Why  should  I  ?  It's  not  my  business." 

Lucy  hesitated.  Should  she  tell  him  what  all  the 
servants  in  the  house  too  truly  suspected  ? — what 
the  very  villagers  in  Combmartin  were  already  gos- 
siping about  at  their  cottage  doors  and  in  the  com- 
mon room  of  the  inn  ? 

"  No,  I  can't  do  it !"  she  mentally  decided — "  He 
looks  as  white  as  a  little  ghost,  he  do,  and  I  won't 
bother  him.  He  wouldn't  understand,  maybe,  and 
he's  got  all  his  lessons  to  learn,  poor  little  chap,  and 
it'll  only  unsettle  him.  Anyhow,  he'll  hear  it  fast 
enough  !"  Aloud  she  said,  "  I  suppose  your  pa  and 

200 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  20 1 

the  Professor  will  be  home  by  the  first  coach  from 
Lynton  this  morning  ?" 

"  I  suppose  so,"  assented  Lionel,  indifferently. 

"  I  don't  like  Lynton  myself,"  went  on  Lucy — 
"  People  talk  about  it  a  lot,  but  it's  just  a  nasty,  damp 
up-and-down  place  without  any  real  comfort  in  it. 
They've  got  a  queer  tram-car  now  that  slides  up  the 
hill  from  Lynmouth  to  Lynton  and  that  doesn't  make 
it  any  prettier,  I  can  tell  you  !"  She  paused,  then 
added,  by  way  of  a  totally  irrelevant  after-thought, 
"  There's  a  letter  addressed  to  your  pa  in  your  ma's 
writing,  waiting  for  him  on  his  study  table." 

Lionel  remained  silent,  pretending  to  be  entirely 
absorbed  in  the  enjoyment  of  his  breakfast. 
Lucy,  finding  he  was  not  inclined  to  talk,  soon 
left  him  to  himself,  much  to  his  relief,  for  when 
quite  alone  he  was  free  to  push  away  the  food 
that  nauseated  him  to  even  look  at,  and  to  think 
his  own  thoughts  without  interruption.  His 
mother's  strange  visit  to  his  bedside  during  the 
night, — her  stranger  words,  her  tears,  her  kisses, 
seemed  this  morning  more  like  the  vague  impres- 
sions of  a  dream  than  a  reality, — and  unless  he  had 
found  the  sash, — his  own  baby-sash, — she  had  left 
with  him,  under  his  pillow,  he  would  have  been  in- 
clined to  doubt  the  whole  incident.  As  it  was,  he 
was  afraid  to  dwell  too  much  upon  it,  for  he  had  a 


202  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

horrible  presentiment  that  it  meant  something  more 
than  he  dared  formulate, — something  dreadful, — 
something  hopeless, — something  that  for  him  would 
bring  great  misery.  He  had  carefully  hidden  away 
the  "  baby-sash," — a  four  yards'  length  of  broad  soft 
ribbon  with  the  delicate  design  of  a  daisy-chain 
straying  over  its  pale  blue  silken  ground, — he  had 
looked  at  it  first  with  critical  interest,  wondering 
what  he  had  been  like  when  as  an  infant  he  had 
worn  such  a  pretty  thing,  and  noting  that  it  was 
scented  with  the  same  delicious  odour  of  violets  that 
had  been  wafted  from  his  mother's  handkerchief 
when  she  had  dried  her  eyes  after  her  sudden  fit  of 
weeping.  Having  put  it  by  in  a  safe  place  he  knew 
of,  he  went  to  his  books  and  set  himself  desperately 
to  work  in  order  to  try  and  forget  his  own  dis- 
quietude. Beginning  by  translating  a  passage  of 
Virgil  into  English  blank  verse,  he  went  on  to 
"  Caesar's  Commentaries," — then  he  did  several  diffi- 
cult and  puzzling  sums,  and  was  stretching  every 
small  fibre  of  his  young  brain  well  on  the  rack  of 
learning,  when  a  coach-horn  sounded,  and  he  saw 
the  Lynton  coach  itself  come  rattling  down-hill  into 
Combmartin.  His  father  and  Professor  Cadman- 
Gore  were  on  top, — that  he  saw  at  a  glance, — and  in 
another  few  minutes  he,  taking  cautious  peeps  from 
the  school-room  window,  perceived  their  two  famil- 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 


203 


iar  figures  walking  up  the  drive  and  entering  the 
house.  And  now — something  seemed  to  stop  the 
boy  from  the  resumption  of  his  tasks, — a  curious 
sensation  came  over  him  as  though  he  were  imperi- 
ously bidden  to  wait  and  hear  the  worst.  What 
worst  ?  He  could  not  analyse  any  "  worst"  satis- 
factorily to  himself — yet  .... 

A  violent  ringing  of  bells  in  the  outside  corridor 
startled  him  and  set  his  heart  beating  rapidly, — he 
got  up  from  his  chair  and  stood,  anxiously  listening 
and  wondering  what  was  the  matter.  All  at  once 
his  father's  voice,  pitched  in  a  high  hoarse  key  of 
utmost  wrath,  called  loudly, — 

"  Lionel !  Lionel !  Where  is  the  boy  ?  Has  he 
turned  tramp,  as  his  mother  has  turned " 

The  sentence  was  left  unfinished,  for  at  that  moment 
Lionel  ran  down  the  stairs  quickly  and  faced  him. 

"  I  am  here,  father !" 

He  trembled  as  he  spoke,  for  he  thought  his  father 
had  suddenly  gone  mad.  Crimson  with  fury,  his 
eyes  rolling  wildly  in  his  head,  his  wolfish  teeth 
clenched  on  his  under-lip,  he  was  a  terrible  sight  to 
see, — and  his  fiendish  aspect  overwhelmed  poor 
Lionel  with  such  alarm  that  he  scarcely  perceived 
the  Professor  who  stood  in  the  back-ground,  crack- 
ing his  great  knuckles  together  and  widening  his 
mouth  into  a  strangely  sardonic  grin.  Directly  his 


204  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

little  son  appeared,  Mr.  Valliscourt  pulled  himself  up 
as  it  were  by  a  violent  effort,  and  bringing  his  eye- 
brows together  so  that  they  met  in  a  hard  black  line 
on  the  bridge  of  his  nose,  he  said  in  choked  fierce 
accents, — 

"Oh,  you  are  here!  Did  you "he  paused, 

took  breath,  and  resumed — "  Did  you  see  your 
mother  .yesterday  ?" 

"  Yes,"  answered  the  boy,  faintly — "  I  saw  her  last 
night.  I  was  in  bed,  and  she  came  and  woke  me  up 
and  said  good-bye  to  me." 

Mr.  Valliscourt  glared  at  the  fragile  trembling 
little  figure  in  frowning  scorn. 

"  Said  good-bye  to  you  ?  Was  that  all  ? — or  was 
there  anything  else  ?  Speak  out !" 

Lionel's  teeth  began  to  chatter  with  fear. 

"  She  said, — she  said  she  was  going  on  a  visit  with 
— with  a  friend  who  would  make  her  happy,"  here  a 
deep  and  awful  oath  sprang  from  Mr.  Valliscourt's 
lips,  causing  the  Professor  to  cough  loudly  by  way 
of  remonstrance — "  and — and — she  said  she  was  not 
very  happy  just  now,  and  that  she  wanted  a  change. 
She  said  she  would  not  be  gone  long,  and  she  cried 
very  much  and  kissed  me.  And  she  promised  she 
would  come  back  as  soon  as  you  sent  for  her.  Oh 
dear ! — whatever  is  the  matter  ?  Oh  father,  do  tell 
me,  please." 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  205 

He  staggered  a  little, — his  head  swam, — and  he 
lost  breath. 

"  Yes,  I  will  tell  you  !"  cried  his  father,  furiously — 
"  I  will  tell  you  truths  as  she  has  told  you  lies ! 
Your  mother  is  a  vile  woman  ! — a  wretch, — a  drab  ! 
— a  disgrace  to  me  and  to  you  !  Do  you  know  what 
it  is  when  a  wife  leaves  her  husband,  and  runs  away 
like  a  thief  in  the  night  with  another  man  ?  If  you 
do  not  know,  you  must  learn, — for  this  is  what  your 
mother  has  done !  The  '  friend'  who  is  to  '  make 
her  happy,' "  and  Mr.  Valliscourt's  angry  visage 
darkened  with  a  hideous  sneer — "  is  Sir  Charles 
Lascelles,  the  fashionable  pet  blackguard  of  society, 
— she  has  gone  with  him, — she  will  never  come 
back !  She  has  dishonoured  my  name,  and  glories 
in  her  dishonour !  Never  think  of  her  again, — never 
speak  of  her !  From  this  day,  remember,  you  have 
no  mother !" 

Lionel  put  up  his  trembling  little  hands  to  his 
head  as  though  he  sought  to  shield  himself  from  a 
storm  of  blows.  His  heart  beat  wildly, — he  tried  to 
speak  but  could  not.  He  stared  helplessly  at  Pro- 
fessor Cadman-Gore,  and  half  fancied  he  saw  a  gleam 
of  something  like  pity  flicker  across  the  wrinkled 
and  sour  physiognomy  of  that  learned  man, — but  all 
was  blurred  and  dim  before  his  sight, — and  the  only 
distinct  things  he  realised  were  the  horror  of  his 

18 


206  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

father's  face  and  the  still  greater  horror  of  his  father's 
words. 

"  You  know  the  meaning  of  a  shamed  life,"  went 
on  Mr.  Valliscourt,  ruthlessly — "  Young  as  you  are, 
you  have  read  in  history  how  there  have  been  men, — 
and  women,  too, — who  have  chosen  to  die  rather 
than  live  disgraced.  Not  so  your  mother !  She  de- 
lights in  her  wickedness, — she  elects  to  live  in  open 
immorality  rather  than  in  honour.  In  her  wanton 
selfishness  she  has  thought  nothing  either  of  me  or 
of  you.  She  is  thoroughly  bad, — in  olden  times  she 
would  have  been  set  in  the  pillory  or  whipped  at  the 
cart's  tail !  And  richly  would  she  have  deserved 
such  punishment !"  and  as  he  spoke  his  right  hand 
clenched  suddenly  as  though  in  imagination  he  held 
the  scourge  he  would  fain  have  used  to  bruise  and 
scarify  the  flesh  of  his  erring  wife — "  When  you  are  a 
man,  you  will  blush  to  remember  she  ever  was  your 
mother.  She  has  made  herself  a  scandal  to  society, 
— she  is  a  debased  and  degraded  example  of  impu- 
dence, dishonesty,  and  infamy ! — she " 

But  here  Lionel  stumbled  forward  giddily  and  laid 
his  weak  little  hand  appealingly  on  his  father's  arm. 

"Oh,  no,  father,  no  !  I  can't  bear  it, — I  can't  bear 
it !"  he  cried — "  I  love  her ! — I  love  her ! — I  do  in- 
deed ! — I  can't  help  it.  She  kissed  me — only  last 
night,  father  ! — yes,  and  she  took  me  in  her  arms, — 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  207 

oh,  I  can't  forget  it, — I  can't,  really  ! — I  love  her — I 
do ! — Oh,  mother — mother !" 

Stammering  thus  incoherently  he  saw  his  father's 
eyes  flame  upon  him  like  balls  of  fire, — his  father's 
form  seemed  to  dilate  all  at  once  to  twice  its  nat- 
ural dimensions, — as  in  a  dream  he  heard  the  growl- 
ing voice  of  the  Professor  interpose  with  the  words — 
"  The  boy  has  had  enough, — let  him  be !"  .  .  .  then 
on  a  blind  impulse  he  ran,  ran,  ran  headlong  out  of 
the  house,  not  knowing  in  the  least  where  he  was 
going,  but  only  bent  on  getting  away — somewhere — 
anywhere — only  away !  Down  the  Combmartin 
road  he  rushed  panting,  like  a  little  escaped  mad 
thing,  the  noonday  sun  beating  hot  on  his  uncovered 
head, — as  in  a  wild  vision  he  heard  voices  calling 
him,  and  saw  strange  faces  looking  at  him, — till 
suddenly  he  became  aware  of  a  familiar  figure  ap- 
proaching him, — a  figure  he  dimly  recognized  as 
that  of  his  old  acquaintance,  Clarinda  Cleverly  Payne, 
whom  he  had  never  seen  since  his  tutor  Montrose 
had  left  Combmartin.  Running  straight  towards 
her,  he  cried  aloud, — 

"  Oh,  Miss  Payne  !— it  isn't  true,  is  it  ?  Oh,  do  tell 
me! — it  can't  be  true!  My  mother  hasn't  gone 
away  for  ever,  has  she  ? — oh  no,  surely  not !  Oh  no, 
no,  no !  She  loves  me, — I  know  she  does !  She 
would  not  leave  me, — she  wouldn't,  I'm  sure  !  Oh,  do 


208  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

tell  me,  dear  Miss  Payne ! — you  do  not  think  she  is 
wicked,  do  you  ?" 

Over  the  weather-beaten  face  of  the  kindly  Cla- 
rinda  came  an  expression  of  the  deepest,  aye,  almost 
divine  compassion.  In  one  moment  her  womanly 
soul  comprehended  the  child's  torture, — his  bewilder- 
ment, his  grief,  his  exceeding  loneliness, — and  with- 
out a  word  in  answer,  she  opened  her  arms.  But 
Lionel,  gazing  at  her  in  passionate  suspense,  met  the 
solemn  and  pitying  look  of  her  eyes, — a  look  that 
confirmed  all  his  worst  fears, — and  sick  to  the  very 
heart,  seeing  the  sky,  the  earth,  and  the  distant  sea 
all  gather  together  in  one  great  avalanche  of  black- 
ness that  came  rolling  down  upon  him,  he  staggered 
another  step  forward  and  fell  senseless  at  her  feet. 


CHAPTER   XI. 

"  BETTER  take  him  away  for  a  few  days,"  said  Dr. 
Hartley,  a  brisk  bright-looking  type  of  the  country 
physician,  as  he  held  his  watch  in  one  hand  and  felt 
Lionel's  feeble  pulse  with  the  other, — "  Give  him  a 
little  change, — move  him  about  a  bit.  He's  had  a 
sort  of  nervous  shock,  — yes —  yes  —  very  sad  ! — I 
heard  the  news  in  the  village,  .  .  .  shocking — un- 
happily these  domestic  troubles  are  becoming  very 
common,  .  .  .  most  distressing  for  you,  I'm  sure !" 

These  disjointed  remarks  were  addressed  to  Mr. 
Valliscourt,  who  alternately  flushing  and  paling, 
under  the  influence  of  his  mingled  sensations  of 
indignation  at  the  dishonour  wrought  upon  him  by 
his  wife,  and  vexation  at  the  sudden  illness  of 
his  son,  presented  a  somewhat  singular  spectacle. 
Lionel  had  been  brought  into  the  house  in  a  dead 
faint  in  the  arms  of  a — a  person, — a  common  person 
who  sold  eggs  and  butter  and  milk  in  the  village  and 
called  herself  Clarinda  Cleverly  Payne, — what  ridicu- 
lous names  these  Devonshire  people  gave  themselves, 
to  be  sure ! — and  the — the  person  had  presumed  to 
express  sympathy  for  him, — for  him,  John  Valliscourt 
of  Valliscourt ! — in  his  "great  misfortune," — and  had 
o  18*  209 


210  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

also  dared  to  compassionate  his  son — yes,  had 
actually,  before  certain  of  the  servants,  said  "  May 
God  help  the  poor  dear  little  motherless  lamb !"  It 
was  most  offensive  and  intrusive  on  the  part  of  the 
person  who  called  herself  Clarinda, — and  Mr.  Vallis- 
court,  as  soon  as  she  departed,  had  given  strict  injunc- 
tions that  she  was  never  again  to  be  admitted  inside 
the  premises  on  any  pretext  whatever.  This  done,  he 
had  sent  for  the  principal  doctor  in  Combmartin, 
who  had  attended  the  summons  promptly,  trotting 
rapidly  to  the  house  on  a  stout  cob,  which,  when  he 
alighted  from  its  broad  back,  was  handed  over  to  the 
care  of  an  equally  stout  boy  who  turned  up  mys- 
teriously from  somewhere  in  the  village,  and  appear- 
ing simultaneously  with  the  doctor,  seemed  to  have 
been  groom-in-ordinary  to  the  cob  all  his  life.  The 
stout  boy  had,  by  some  unknown  process,  trans- 
ferred the  roundness  and  ruddiness  of  two  prize 
Devonshire  apples  into  his  cheeks,  and  he  had 
another  Devonshire  apple  in  his  pocket  which  he 
presently  took  out,  cut  with  a  clasp-knife  and  divided 
into  equal  proportions  between  the  cob  and  himself, 
to  occupy  the  time  spent  by  them  both  in  waiting 
for  the  doctor  outside  Mr.  Valliscourt's  hall-door. 
The  doctor  meanwhile  had  successfully  roused  Lionel 
from  the  death-like  swoon  that  had  lasted  till  he 
came, — and  Lionel  himself,  breathing  faintly  and 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  211 

irregularly,  had  half  opened  his  eyes,  and  was  vaguely 
trying  to  think  where  he  was  and  what  had  happened 
to  him. 

"  Yes,"  continued  Dr.  Hartley  musingly,  now  lift- 
ing with  delicate  ringer  one  of  the  boy's  eyelids  and 
peering  at  the  ball  of  the  soft  eye  beneath  it — "  I 
should  certainly  take  him  away  as  quickly  as  con- 
venient to  yourself " 

"  It's  not  convenient  to  me  at  all,"  said  Mr.  Vallis- 
court,  irritably — "/  can't  go  anywhere  with  him, — 
my  time  is  fully  occupied, — and  his  lessons  will  be 
materially  interfered  with " 

"  Humph  !"  and  the  doctor  glanced  him  over  from 
head  to  foot  with  considerable  disfavour — "  Well — 
you  must  decide  for  yourself,  of  course, — but  it  is 
my  duty  as  a  medical  man  to  inform  you  that  if  the 
boy  is  not  moved  at  once  and  given  some  change 
from  his  present  surroundings,  there  is  a  danger  of 
meningitis  setting  in.  And  his  constitution  does  not 
appear  to  me  sufficiently  robust  to  withstand  it. 
Lessons  just  now  are  entirely  out  of  the  question." 

Mr.  Valliscourt  frowned.  He  took  a  sudden  and 
violent  aversion  to  Dr.  Hartley.  He  disliked  and 
resented  the  expression  of  the  shrewd  blue  eye  that 
gave  him  such  a  straight  look  of  criticism  and  cen- 
sure,— and  he  felt  that  here  was  another  "  semi-bar- 
baric fool"  like  Willie  Montrose,  who  had  beliefs  and 


212  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

sentiments.  He  coughed  in  a  stately  manner,  and 
said,  stiffly, — 

"  Perhaps  I  can  persuade  Professor  Cadman- 
Gore " 

"  Who  is  he  ?"  asked  the  doctor,  abruptly,  laying 
his  big  gentle  hand  on  Lionel's  brow  and  smoothing 
back  the  curls  that  clustered  there  with  the  suave 
soft  touch  of  a  woman.  Mr.  Valliscourt  stared, — 
then  smiled  a  superior  smile  at  the  ignorance  of  this 
village  Galen. 

"  Professor  Cadman-Gore,"  he  announced  with 
laboured  politeness — "  is  one  of  our  greatest 
thinkers  and  logicians.  His  fame  is  almost  uni- 
versal,— I  should  have  thought  it  had  penetrated 
even  to  this  part  of  the  country, — that  is,  among 
the  more  cultured  inhabitants" — and  he  laid  a  slight 
emphasis  on  the  word  "  cultured" — "He  is  the  author 
of  many  valuable  scientific  works,  and  is  an  admira- 
ble trainer  and  cultivator  of  youth.  As  a  rule,  he 
never  undertakes  the  instruction  of  a  boy  so  young 
as  my  son, — but  out  of  consideration  for  me,  hear- 
ing that  I  had  been  compelled  to  dismiss,  rather 
suddenly,  an  incompetent  tutor,  he  very  kindly  ac- 
cepted the  task  of  my  son's  holiday  tuition.  It  is 
possible  he  might  be  willing  to  accompany  the  boy 
for  the  change  you  advise, — if  indeed  you  consider 
such  a  change  absolutely  necessary " 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  213 

"  I  do,  most  decidedly,"  said  Dr.  Hartley,  filling  a 
teaspoon  with  some  reviving  cordial,  and  gently 
placing  it  to  Lionel's  lips,  while  Lionel  in  his  turn, 
feeling  all  the  time  as  if  he  were  in  a  dream,  swal- 
lowed the  mixture  obediently — "  I  don't  say  take 
him  far, — for  he  must  on  no  account  be  over- 
fatigued.  Clovelly  would  be  a  good  place.  Let 
him  go  there  with  his  tutor  and  scramble  about 
as  he  likes.  The  sooner  the  better.  Here  he  will 
only  think  and  fret  about  his  mother.  In  fact 
you'd  better  order  a  carriage  and  have  him  taken  on 
as  far  as  Ilfracombe  this  very  afternoon — then  the 
rest  of  the  way  can  be  done  by  easy  stages.  The 
coach  would  be  too  jolty  for  him.  You  can't  go 
with  him  yourself,  you  say  ?" 

"  Impossible !"  and  Mr.  Valliscourt's  mouth  hard- 
ened into  a  thin  tight  line,  indicative  of  inward 
and  closely  repressed  rage — "  I  must  go  to  town 
at  once  for  a  few  days — I  have  to  consult  my — 
my  lawyers." 

"  Oh — ah  !  Yes — I  see — I  understand  !"  and  the 
doctor  gave  a  little  nod  of  comprehension — "  Well, 
can  I  have  a  talk  to  the  boy's  tutor  ?  I  should  like 
to  explain  a  few  points  to  him." 

"  Certainly.  He  is  in  the  schoolroom, — permit  me 
to  show  you  the  way  there." 

"One  moment!"  and    Dr.  Hartley  gave  a  keen 


214  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

glance  round  the  small  apartment  in  which  they 
were.  It  was  Lionel's  bedroom,  whither  he  had 
been  carried  in  his  swoon  by  the  warm-hearted 
Clarinda  Cleverly  Payne.  The  window  was  shut, — 
but  the  doctor  threw  it  wide  open.  "  Plenty  of 
fresh  air,  nourishing  food,  and  rest,"  he  said — 
"  That's  what  the  boy  wants.  And  he  must  be 
amused, — he  mustn't  be  left  alone.  Send  one  of 
the  servants  up  here  to  sit  with  him  till  he's  ready  to 
start  this  afternoon." 

"  Send  Lucy  !"  murmured  Lionel's  faint  voice  from 
the  bed. 

"  What's  that,  my  little  man  ?"  inquired  the  doc- 
tor, bending  over  him — "  Send  whom  ?" 

"  Lucy," — and  Lionel  looked  up  fearlessly  in  his 
physician's  round,  shiny  face — "  She  is  a  house-maid, 
and  a  very  nice  girl.  I  like  her." 

Dr.  Hartley  smiled.  "  Very  good !  You  shall 
have  Lucy.  The  desirable  young  woman  shall 
come  up  to  you  at  once.  Now,  how  do  you 
feel  ?" 

"  Much  better,  thank  you !"  and  the  boy's  eyes 
softened  gratefully — "  But — you  know  ...  I  can't, 
— I  can't  forget  things,  .  .  .  not  very  easily!" 

The  doctor  made  no  answer  to  this  remark,  but 
merely  settled  the  pillows  more  comfortably  under 
his  small  patient's  head,  Then  he  went  away  with 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 


215 


Mr.  Valliscourt  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  Pro- 
fessor Cadman-Gore.  And  when  Lucy  came  creep- 
ing softly  up,  as  commanded,  to  watch  by  Lionel's 
bedside,  she  found  the  little  fellow  sleeping,  with 
traces  of  tears  glistening  on  his  pale  cheeks,  and 
his  aspect  was  so  touching  and  solemn  in  its  inno- 
cence and  sorrow  and  helplessness,  that  being  noth- 
ing but  a  woman  and  a  warm-hearted  woman  too, 
she  took  out  her  handkerchief  and  had  a  good  quiet 
cry  all  to  herself.  "  How  could  she — how  could  she 
leave  the  little  dear !"  she  wondered  dolefully,  as  she 
thought  of  the  reckless  and  shameful  flight  of  her 
recent  mistress — "  To  leave  him" — meaning  Mr. 
Valliscourt, — "  isn't  so  surprising,  howsumever  it's 
wicked,  for  he's  a  handful  to  live  with  and  no 
mistake ! — but  to  leave  her  own  boy, — that's  real 
downright  bad  of  her! — that  it  is!"  Poor  Lucy! 
She  had  never  read  the  works  of  Ibsen,  and  was 
entirely  ignorant  of  the  "  New  Morality,"  as  incul- 
cated by  Mr.  Grant  Allen.  Had  she  been  taught 
these  modern  ethics,  she  would  have  recognised  in 
Mrs.  Valliscourt's  conduct  merely  a  "noble"  out- 
break of  "  white  purity"  and  virtue.  But  she  had 
"barbaric"  notions  of  motherhood, — she  believed  in 
its  sacredness  in  quite  an  obstinate,  prejudiced,  and 
old-fashioned  way.  She  was  nothing  but  a  "  child 
of  nature,"  poor,  simple,  Ibsen-less  housemaid  Lucy ! 


2 1 6  THE  MIGHTY  A  TOM. 

— and  throughout  all  creation,  nature  makes  mother- 
love  a  law,  and  mother's  duty  paramount 

Meanwhile  Dr.  Hartley  had  the  stupendous  honour 
of  shaking  hands  with  Professor  Cadman-Gore, — and 
not  only  did  he  seem  totally  unimpressed  by  the 
occurrence,  but  he  had  actually  the  sublime  impu- 
dence to  ask  for  a  private  interview  with  the  great 
man, — that  is,  an  interview  without  the  presence  of 
Mr.  Valliscourt.  The  latter  personage,  surprised 
and  somewhat  offended,  reluctantly  left  the  two  gen- 
tlemen together  for  the  space  of  about  fifteen  min- 
utes,— at  the  end  of  which  time  the  Professor  looked 
more  ponderously  thoughtful  than  usual,  and  Dr. 
Hartley  took  his  leave,  trotting  off  on  his  stout  cob 
amid  many  respectful  salutations  from  the  stout  boy 
who  straightway  disappeared  also,  to  those  unknown 
regions  of  Combmartin  whence  he  had  emerged,  as 
if  by  magic,  directly  his  services  were  required. 

And  Lionel  slept  on  and  on,  till  at  a  little  after 
three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  Lucy  roused  him  and 
gave  him  a  cup  of  soup,  which  seemed  to  him  par- 
ticularly strong  and  well-flavoured. 

"  There's  wine  in  it,  isn't  there  ?"  he  asked,  with  a 
surprised  glance,  whereat  Lucy  nodded  smiling — 
"  Fancy  giving  me  wine  in  my  soup !  Oh,  I  say ! 
It's  too  good  for  me  !" 

Lucy  gave  a  slight  sniff,  and  stated  she  had  a  cold. 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  217 

"  It's  my  belief  that  this  old  house  is  damp  !"  she 
said — "And  the  whole  village  is  crazy-built  and 
green-mouldy  in  my  opinion !  And  what  do  you 
think,  Master  Lionel  ?  If  that  blessed  old  '  Hoddy- 
Doddy/  the  silly  man  you  saw  the  other  morning, 
ain't  been  here  shaking  his  wobbly  head  over  the 
gate  and  giving  all  his  roses  in  for  you,  for  nothing ! 
and  here  they  are !"  and  she  raised  a  beautiful  clus- 
ter of  deep  red,  pale  pink,  and  white  half-open  buds, 
fragrant  and  dewy — "  We  couldn't  make  out  what 
he  wanted  at  first,  he  was  so  wobbly  and  couldn't 
speak  plain, — but  at  last  we  got  at  it — it  was  '  For 
the  little  boy — the  little  boy ' — over  and  over  again. 
So  we  took  the  flowers  just  to  please  the  poor  crea- 
ture,— he  wouldn't  have  any  money  for  them.  He 
saw  you  being  carried  home  in  your  faint  by  Miss 
Payne,  and  he  thought  you  were  dead." 

"  Did  he  ?"  murmured  Lionel,  wistfully — "  And 
that  is  why  he  brought  the  flowers,  I  suppose, — 
thinking  me  dead !  Poor  man  !  He's  very  dreadful 
to  look  at, — but  he's  very  kind,  I  daresay — and  he 
can't  help  his  looks,  can  he  ?" 

"  No,  that  he  can't,"  agreed  Lucy,  simply — "And, 
after  all,  it's  what  we  are  that  God  cares  about,  not 
what  we  seem  to  be." 

At  these  words  a  deep  sadness  clouded  the  boy's 
eyes,  and  he  thought  of  his  mother.  Was  there  a 
K  19 


2l8  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

God  to  care  what  become  of  her  f  Or  was  there 
only  the  Atom,  to  whom  nothing  mattered,  neither 
sin,  nor  sorrow,  nor  death  ?  Oh,  if  he  could  only 
be  sure  that  it  was  really  a  God  who  was  the  Su- 
preme Cause  and  Mover  of  all  things, — a  wise,  lov- 
ing, pitiful,  forgiving,  Eternal  and  Divine  Being,  how 
he  would  pray  to  Him  for  his  lost,  unhappy,  beau- 
tiful mother,  and  ask  Him  to  bring  her  back  !  But 
he  had  no  time  to  ponder  on  such  questions,  for 
Lucy  was  now  busy  putting  on  his  overcoat  and 
finding  his  hat,  and  packing  his  little  valise,  and 
doing  all  sorts  of  things, — and  while  he  was  yet  won- 
dering at  these  arrangements  and  trying  to  stand 
firmly  on  his  legs,  which  were  curiously  weak  and 
shaky,  who  should  come  striding  largely  across  the 
threshold  of  his  bedroom  but  Professor  Cadman- 
Gore !  Professor  Cadman-Gore,  with  broad,  soft 
wide-awake  on,  and  extensive  flapping  over-all,  his 
habitual  costume  when  travelling,  even  in  the  hottest 
weather, — and  more  wonderful  than  the  wide- 
awake or  the  over-all,  was  the  smile  that  wrinkled 
the  Professor's  grim  features  in  several  new  places, 
making  little  unaccustomed  lines  of  agreeable  sug- 
gestiveness  among  the  deeper  furrows  of  thought, 
and  even  turning  up  the  stiff  corners  of  his  mouth  in 
quite  a  strange  manner,  inasmuch  as  his  usual  sort 
of  smile  always  turned  those  corners  down. 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  219 

"  Hullo !"  said  the  learned  man,  with  a  sprightly 
air — "  How  are  you  now  ?" 

"  Better,  thank  you  !"  answered  Lionel,  gently — 
"  My  head  is  a  little  swimmy,  that's  all." 

"  Oh,  that's  all,  is  it  ?  Well,  that  isn't  much  !"  and 
the  Professor  stood  alternately  glowering  and  grin- 
ning with  a  distinctly  evident  desire  to  make  himself 
agreeable — "  Can  you  ride  pick-a-back  ?" 

Lionel  stared  wonderingly, — then  smiled. 

"  Why,  yes  !  I  haven't  often  done  it, — but  I  know 
how !" 

"  Come  along  then !"  and  the  Professor  squatted 
down  and  bent  his  bony  shoulders  to  the  necessary 
level — "  I'll  take  you  to  the  carriage  that  way.  Hold 
on  tight !" 

Lionel  was  stricken  quite  speechless  with  sheer 
amazement.  What ! — Professor  Cadman-Gore,  the 
great  scholar,  the  not-to-be-contradicted  logician, 
condescending  to  carry  a  boy  pick-a-back  !  Such  a 
thing  was  astounding, — unheard-of!  Surely  it  ought 
to  be  chronicled  in  the  newspapers  under  a  bold 
head-line  thus, — 

GRACIOUS  CONDUCT  OF  AN  OXFORD 
PROFESSOR. 

"Do  you  mean  it? — Really?"  he  asked,  timidly, 
flushing  with  surprise. 


220  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

"  Certainly  I  do !  Only  don't  keep  me  waiting 
long  in  this — this  absurd  attitude !"  And  ferocity 
and  kindness  together  played  at  such  cross-purposes 
on  his  lantern-jawed  visage  that  Lionel  lost  no  time 
in  getting  his  little  legs  astride  round  the  sinewy 
neck  of  the  distinguished  man,  trembling  as  he  did 
so  at  the  very  idea  of  taking  such  a  liberty  with 
a  walking  encyclopaedia  of  wisdom.  And  down- 
stairs they  went,  master  and  pupil,  in  this  wondrous 
fashion,  to  the  hall-door,  outside  which  there  was 
a  big  landau  and  pair  of  sleek  brown  horses  waiting, 
and  where  Lionel  was  slipped  easily  off  the  Pro- 
fessor's back  into  a  pile  of  soft  cushions  and  covered 
up  with  warm  rugs.  Then  Lucy  bustled  about,  pack- 
ing all  manner  of  odds  and  ends  into  the  carnage,  and 
openly  flirting  with  the  coachman  in  the  very 
presence  of  the  great  Cadman-Gore, — one  or  two 
of  the  other  servants  came  out  to  look  and  wave 
their  hands, — then  the  horses  started, — Lucy  called, 
"  Good-bye,  Master  Lionel !  Come  back  quite 
well !"  and  away  they  drove  through  the  beautiful 
sunshiny  air,  down  the  one  principal  street  of 
Combmartin,  past  the  quiet  little  harbour,  and  up 
the  picturesque  road  leading  to  Ilfracombe.  Mr. 
Valliscourt  had  not  appeared  to  bid  his  little  son 
good-bye, — and  Lionel,  though  he  noticed  the  fact, 
did  not  regret  it.  Resting  comfortably  among 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  221 

his  pillows  he  was  very  silent,  though  now  and 
then  he  stole  a  furtive  glance  at  the  Professor, 
who  sat  bolt  upright  surveying  the  landscape 
through  his  spectacles  with  the  severely  critical 
air  of  a  man  who  knows  just  how  scenery  is 
made  and  won't  stand  any  nonsense  about  it, — 
and  it  was  not  till  they  had  left  Combmartin  some 
distance  behind  them  that  he  ventured  to  ask 
gently,— 

"  Where  are  we  going  ?" 

"  To  Clovelly,"  replied  the  Professor,  bringing 
his  owl-like  glasses  to  bear  on  the  little  wistful  face 
upturned  to  him — "  But  not  to-night.  We  only  get 
as  far  as  Ilfracombe  this  afternoon." 

"  Is  my  father  coming  ?" 

"  No.  He's  going  to  London  on  business.  He'll 
be  away  a  week  or  ten  days  and  so  shall  we.  Then 
we  shall  return  to  Combmartin  and  stay  there  till 
your  father's  summer  tenancy  of  the  house  expires." 

"  I  see  !"  murmured  Lionel — "  I  understand !" 
And  two  great  tears  filled  his  eyes.  He  was 
thinking  of  his  mother.  But  her  name  never 
passed  his  lips.  He  turned  his  face  a  little  away 
and  thought  he  had  hidden  his  emotion  from  his 
tutor, — but  he  thought  wrongly,  for  the  Professor 
had  seen  the  gleam  of  those  unfailing  tears,  and, 
strange  to  say,  was  moved  thereby  to  what  was 

19* 


222  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

for  him  a  most  unusual  sentiment  of  pity.  He  who 
had  frequently  witnessed  the  ruthless  vivisection  of 
innocent  animals, — he  who  had  tranquilly  watched  a 
poor  butterfly  writhe  itself  to  death  on  his  scientific 
pin,  was  at  last  touched  in  the  innermost  recesses  of 
his  heart  by  the  troubles  of  a  child.  And  so,  per- 
chance, he  established  a  claim  for  himself  in  the 
heaven  he  so  strenuously  denied, — a  claim  that 
might  possibly  be  of  more  avail  to  him  in  the  Great 
Hereafter  than  all  his  book-lore  and  world-logic. 

Meanwhile,  John  Valliscourt  of  Valliscourt,  shut 
up  in  his  own  room  in  the  now  lonely  house  at 
Combmartin,  wrote  to  his  lawyers  preparing  them 
for  his  visit  to  their  office  next  day,  and  instructed 
them  at  once  to  sue  for  his  divorce  from  Helen 
Valliscourt,  the  co-respondent  in  the  case  being 
Charles  Lascelles,  Baronet.  There  would  be  no  de- 
fence, he  added, — and  then,  turning  from  his  own 
methodical  statement  of  the  facts,  he  took  up  and 
re-read  the  letter  his  recreant  wife  had  written  him 
by  way  of  farewell.  It  ran  thus, — 

"  I  leave  you  without  shame  and  without  remorse. 
While  I  was  faithful  to  you,  you  made  my  life  a 
misery.  Your  pride  and  egotism  need  humbling, — 
I  am  glad  to  be  at  least  the  means  of  dragging  you 
down  in  the  dust  of  dishonour.  You  have  killed 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  223 

every  womanly  sentiment  in  me, — you  have  even 
separated  me  from  my  child.  You  have  robbed  me 
of  God,  of  hope,  of  every  sense  of  duty.  I  have 
gone  with  Charles  Lascelles,  whose  chief  merit  in 
my  eyes  is  that  he  hates  you  as  much  as  I  do !  In 
other  respects  you  know  his  character,  and  so  do  I. 
When  you  divorce  me  he  will  not  marry  me, — I 
would  not  have  him  if  he  offered.  I  have  consented 
to  be  his  mistress  in  exchange  for  a  year's  amuse- 
ment, attention  and  liberty — and  for  the  rest  of  my 
life  what  shall  I  do  ?  I  neither  know  nor  care ! 
Perhaps  I  shall  repent — perhaps  I  shall  die.  To  me 
nothing  matters, — your  creed, — the  creed  of  Self, — 
suffices.  Your  Self  is  content  with  dull  respect- 
ability,— my  Self  craves  indulgence.  If  anything 
could  have  kept  me  straight  and  given  me  patience 
to  bear  with  your  arrogance  and  pedantry,  it  would 
have  been  my  boy's  love,  but  that  you  are  deliber- 
ately bent  on  depriving  me  of.  Every  day  you  set 
up  new  barriers  between  him  and  me.  And  yet  I 
loved  you  once — you  ! — I  laugh  now  to  think  of  my 
folly !  You  did  everything  you  could  to  crush  that 
love  out  of  me, — you  have  succeeded !  What  rem- 
nant of  a  heart  I  have  is  left  with  Lionel, — my  spirit 
is  in  the  boy's  blood,  and  already  he  rebels  against 
your  petty  tyranny.  Sooner  or  later  he  will  escape 
you, — may  it  be  soon  for  the  poor  child's  own  sake ! 


224  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

— and  then, — whether  there  be  a  God  or  no  God, 
you  will  reap  the  curses  you  have  so  lavishly  sown. 
May  they  amply  reward  you  for  your  '  generosity'  to 
"  Your  wife  no  longer, 

"  HELEN." 

Over  and  over  again  Mr.  Valliscourt  read  these 
words  till  they  seemed  burned  into  his  brain, — far 
into  the  night  he  mused  upon  their  purport, — and 
the  phrases  "  My  spirit  is  in  the  boy's  blood," 
"  already  he  rebels," — "  sooner  or  later  he  will 
escape  you,"  sounded  loudly  in  his  ears  like  threats 
from  some  unseen  enemy. 

"  No !"  he  muttered,  rising  from  his  chair  at  last, 
and  thrusting  the  letter  into  a  secret  drawer  of  his 
desk — "  Let  her  go,  the  jade ! — the  way  of  all  such 
trash ! — let  her  mix  herself  with  the  mud  of  the 
street  and  be  forgotten, — but  the  boy  is  mine ! — he 
shall  obey  me, — and  I  will  crush  her  spirit  out  of 
him  and  make  of  him  what  I  choose." 


CHAPTER    XII. 

POOR  Clovelly, — beautiful  Clovelly !  Once  an  ideal 
village  for  poets  to  sing  of  and  artists  to  dream  of,  to 
what "  base  uses"  hast  thou  come !  Now  no  longer  a 
secluded  bower  for  the  "  melancholy  mild-eyed  lotus- 
eaters"  of  thought, — no  longer  a  blessed  haven  of 
rest  for  weary  souls  seeking  cessation  from  care  and 
toil,  thou  art  branded  as  a  "place  of  interest"  for 
cheap  trippers,  who  with  loud  noise  of  scrambling 
feet  and  goose-like  gigglings,  crowd  thy  one  lovely 
upward-winding  street, — which  is  like  nothing  so 
much  as  a  careless  garland  of  flowers  left  by  chance 
on  the  side  of  a  hill, — and  thrust  their  unromantic 
figures  and  vulgarly  inquisitive  faces  through  thy 
picturesque  doorways  and  quaint  fuchsia-wreathed 
lattice-windows.  It  is  as  though  a  herd  of  swine 
should  suddenly  infest  a  fairy's  garden,  nosing  the 
fine  elfin  air,  and  rooting  up  the  magic  blossoms. 
Demoralised  Clovelly  !  Even  thy  inhabitants,  origi- 
nally simple-hearted,  gentle,  and  hospitable  with  all 
the  unaffected  primitive  sweetness  of  oldest  English 
hospitality,  are  tainted  by  the  metropolitan  disease 
of  money-grubbing, — love  of  "  the  chinks"  is  fast 
superseding  the  love  of  nature,  and  this  to  such  an 
p  225 


226  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

extent  that  even  a  damsel  in  waiting  at  the  New  Inn, 
a  native  of  the  place,  hath  had  no  scruple  in  dyeing 
her  hair  an  outrageous  straw-tint  with  some  "  sun- 
beam" or  "  aurora"  mixture.  Dyed  hair  in  the  village 
of  Clovelly ! — it  is  a  curious  anomaly,  and  gives  one 
a  kind  of  shock.  Dyed  hair,  painted  cheeks,  and 
blackened  eyebrows  are  the  ordinary  tawdry  deface- 
ments wherewith  the  women  of  our  large  and  over- 
crowded cities  foolishly  strive  to  make  themselves 
look  as  much  like  their  "  fallen"  sisters  as  possible, 
and  as  it  were,  voluntarily  label  themselves  promi- 
nently as  "  under  surveillance," — but  in  a  tiny  vil- 
lage tenderly  nestling  between  two  flowery  hills, 
itself  in  a  flowery  clime,  and  crowded  at  the  sum- 
mit by  a  flowery  knoll, — a  village  apparently  born 
of  nature,  cherished  by  nature,  and  meant  for 
nature,  what  stranger  sight  can  there  be  than  an 
"artless"  native  maiden  with  dyed  hair!  As 
strange  as  though  one  should  find  a  clown  in  full 
theatrical  paint  and  costume  seated  among  the  prim- 
roses and  bluebells  of  the  "  Hobby  Drive."  Yet 
the  girl's  dyed  hair  serves  somewhat  as  a  sign  and 
symbol  of  the  gradual  spoiling  of  Clovelly, — though 
Dame  Nature  with  many  fond  tears  of  appealing 
love  still  twines  the  jessamine  and  pushes  the  may- 
blossom  over  the  roofs  and  against  the  walls  of  the 
cherished  spot,  and  pleads  in  all  her  tenderest  ways 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  227 

for  its  preservation.  "  Leave  Clovelly  to  me !"  she 
cries — "  Let  the  tramping  herd  wander  over  the  face 
of  foreign  lands  if  they  must  and  will, — let  them 
break  their  soda-water  bottles  against  the  ruins  of 
the  Coliseum  in  Rome, — let  them  write  their  worth- 
less names  on  the  topmost  statue  adorning  Milan 
Cathedral, — let  them  paint  their  glaring  advertise- 
ments across  the  rocks  and  glaciers  of  Switzerland, 
— let  them  chip  at  the  features  of  the  Sphinx,  and 
scrawl  vile  phrases  on  the  Pyramids, — but  spare  me 
Clovelly  !  Let  me  still  keep  the  guardianship  of  my 
own  sea-paradise, — let  me  twist  the  crimson  fuchsia 
round  the  doors  and  bunch  the  purple  blossoms  of 
wistaria  above  the  windows, — let  me  grow  my  daisies 
and  bright  pimpernels  in  the  crannies  of  the  climb- 
ing street, — let  me  trail  the  golden  '  creeping-Jenny' 
down  the  stone  steps  of  side-dwellings  and  in  quaint 
hole-and-corner  alleys, — let  me  wreathe  the  honey- 
suckle in  fragrant  tufts  about  the  balconies  and 
chimneys,  and  let  me  put  all  the  sweetness  of  my 
flowers,  my  sea-foam,  my  bright  air,  and  my  fresh  foli- 
age into  the  hearts  of  the  people  !  I  would  fain  keep 
them  a  race  apart, — the  women  simple,  noble,  mater- 
nal,— the  men  strong,  brave,  God-fearing,  and  manly, 
with  eyes  grown  blue  in  the  fronting  of  the  sea,  and 
hearts  kept  young  by  the  companionship  of  flowers 
and  children, — so  that  even  when  storm  rushes  in 


228  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

from  the  Atlantic  and  makes  of  my  Clovelly  nothing 
but  a  shining  gleam  of  light  in  a  haze  of  rain,  and 
the  thunder  of  the  billows  on  the  shore  is  as  God's 
voice  arguing  with  His  creation,  these  village-folk 
may  be  unafraid  and  calm,  with  faith  in  their  souls 
and  love  in  their  hearts,  a  contrast  to  the  dwellers 
in  cities,  who,  pampered  and  spoilt  in  their  fancied 
security  of  wealth  and  ease,  cower  and  scurry  away 
from  the  slightest  touch  of  misfortune  as  rats  fly 
from  a  falling  house.  Release  me  from  the  scourge 
of  savages  and  pilferers  who  have  thrust  themselves 
in  upon  this  my  deeply-hidden  work  and  favourite 
bower ! — let  me  keep  Clovelly  '  unspotted  from  the 
world' !" 

Thus  Dame  Nature, — but  her  appeal  is  vain.  She 
could  not  save  Foyers, — she  will  not  save  Clovelly. 
The  spoiler's  hand  has  fallen, — the  work  of  destruc- 
tion has  already  begun,  not  outwardly  but  inwardly. 
What  though  the  present  owners  of  the  land  have 
vowed  to  keep  Clovelly  as  it  is  ? — what  though  they 
rightly  and  justly  refuse  to  have  hotels  built  and 
lodging-houses  set  up  to  deface  one  of  the  most 
unique  and  exquisite  spots  in  all  creation  ?  The 
taint  is  in  the  hearts  of  the  people, — the  love  of 
gain, — the  greed  of  cash ;  discontent  and  ambition, 
like  two  evil  genii,  have  crept  into  Fairyland,  and 
their  promptings  and  suggestions  will  in  time  pre- 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 


229 


vail  more  strongly  than  all   the  earnest  voices    of 
good  angels. 

Lionel  led  a  curious  sort  of  life  at  Clovelly.  He 
and  the  Professor  occupied  the  quaintest  and  funniest 
little  rooms  that  ever  were  designed, — rooms  with 
floors  that  sloped  and  ceilings  that  slanted,  and  that 
altogether  suggested  the  remains  of  some  earthquake, 
by  reason  of  numerous  wide  cracks  in  the  walls  and 
gaps  in  the  chimney-nooks,  and  that  yet  were  pretty 
with  an  odd  old-world  prettiness  not  found  every- 
where. The  landlady  of  these  "  desirable  apart- 
ments "  was  a  bakeress  by  profession,  though  she 
did  many  other  useful  things  besides  baking  bread 
and  letting  lodgings.  She  was  a  clean,  buxom-look- 
ing woman,  and  had  excellent  notions  concerning 
the  wholesomeness  of  fresh  air  and  sweet  linen, — 
so  that  all  her  beds  were  lavender-scented,  and  her 
entire  abode  neatly  ordered  and  redolent  of  the  honey- 
suckle and  the  rose  that  clambered  round  her  win- 
dows. She  was  unceasing  in  her  care  for  her  lodg- 
ers,— her  anxious  deference  towards  the  grim-featured 
long-legged  Professor  knew  no  bounds,  while  her 
warm  heart  was  quite  taken  captive  by  the  plaintive 
gentleness  and  pretty  ways  of  Lionel,  whom  she 
always  called  "  the  dear  little  boy,"  a  term  which  set 
Lionel  himself  thinking.  Was  he  so  very  little  ?  He 
was  nearly  eleven, — surely  that  was  almost  a  man ! 

20 


230  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

True,  his  mother  had  called  him  her  "  baby  " — and 
his  inwardly-grieving  soul  suffered  an  additional 
pang  at  this  recollection  of  her  tenderness.  He  dared 
not  dwell  upon  the  image  of  her  face  as  it  had  looked 
in  the  white  moonlight  when  she  kissed  him  for  the 
last  time, — was  it  indeed  the  last  time,  he  wondered, 
sadly  ? — should  he  ever  see  her  again  ?  He  had 
full  leisure  now  for  thought, — the  Professor  let  him 
wander  about  just  as  he  liked,  and  was  altogether 
extraordinarily  kind  to  him.  He  could  not  quite 
make  it  out, — but  he  was  grateful.  And  he  used  to 
show  his  gratitude  in  odd  little  ways  of  his  own 
which  had  a  curious  and  softening  effect  on  the  mind 
of  the  learned  Cadman-Gore.  He  would  carefully 
brush  the  ugly  hat  of  the  great  man  and  bring  it  to 
him, — he  would  pull  out  and  smooth  the  large  sticky 
fingers  of  his  loose  leather  gloves  and  lay  them  side 
by  side  on  a  table  ready  for  him  to  wear, — he  would 
energetically  polish  the  top  of  his  big  silver-knobbed 
stick, — and  he  would  invariably  make  a  "  button- 
hole" of  the  prettiest  flowers  he  could  find  for  him 
to  put  in  his  coat  at  dinner.  The  astonishment  with 
which  the  distinguished  disciplinarian  first  received 
these  attentions,  and  afterwards  grew  to  expect  them 
every  day  as  a  matter  of  course,  was  somewhat 
remarkable.  And  it  is  to  be  noted  that  the  worthy 
Cadman-Gore  was  so  far  moved  from  his  usual  self 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  231 

during  these  sunshiny  days  at  Clovelly  as  to  go 
rummaging  down,  down,  into  the  far  recesses  of  his 
own  past  youth  and  search  there  for  fragments  of 
fairy-tales,  which  fragments,  laid  hold  of  after  much 
difficulty,  he  would  piece  together  laboriously  for 
Lionel's  benefit  and  amusement.  One  day  it  oc- 
curred to  him  that  he  would  relate  in  "  fairy"  style 
the  beautiful  old  classic  legend  of  Cupid  and  Psyche, 
and  see  what  the  boy  made  of  it.  They  had  gone 
for  a  walk  that  afternoon  along  the  "  Hobby  Drive," 
and  had  paused  to  sit  down  and  rest  on  a  grassy 
knoll  from  which  the  sea  gleamed  distantly  like  a 
turquoise  set  in  diamonds  between  the  tremulous 
foliage  of  the  bending  trees.  And  in  his  harsh 
hoarse  voice  which  he  vainly  strove  to  soften,  the 
Professor  told  the  tender  and  poetic  story, — of  the 
happiness  of  Psyche  with  her  divine  lover,  till  that 
fatal  night  when  she  held  her  little  lamp  aloft  that 
she  might  satisfy  her  curiosity  and  see  for  herself  the 
actual  shape  and  lineaments  of  the  god, — then  came 
the  thunder  and  the  darkness, — the  breaking  and 
extinguishing  of  the  lamp, — the  rush  of  great  wings 
through  the  midnight — and  lo,  Love  had  fled, — and 
poor  Psyche  was  left  alone  weeping.  And  ever 
since  has  she  not  been  solitary? — searching  for  the 
vanished  Glory  which  she  knows  of,  yet  cannot  find  ? 
Lionel  listened  in  rapt  silence,  his  earnest  eyes  every 


232 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 


now  and  then  raised  to  his  tutor's  furrowed  visage, 
which,  under  the  influence  of  the  beauty  of  Clovelly 
and  the  wistful  presence  of  the  child,  had  taken  upon 
itself  a  certain  expression  of  benevolence  that  strug- 
gled to  overcome  and  banish  the  old  long  lines  of 
practised  austerity. 

"  I  like  that  story,"  he  said,  when  it  was  finished — 
"And  I  see  a  lot  of  meaning  in  it, — quite  serious 
meaning,  you  know !  May  I  tell  you  what  I  think 
about  it?" 

Professor  Cadman-Gore  nodded.  Lionel,  taking 
up  the  large  wide-awake  hat  that  lay  on  the  grass, 
proceeded  delicately  to  remove  without  injury  a  tiny 
grasshopper  that  had  boldly  presumed  to  settle 
on  that  misshapen  covering  of  one  of  the  wisest 
heads  in  Christendom. 

"  You  see,  Psyche  didn't  know,  and  she  wanted 
to  find  out,"  he  went  on  musingly — "That's  just 
like  me  and  you  and  everybody,  isn't  it?  And 
then  we  light  our  little  lamps,  and  begin  to  try 
and  discover  things, — and  perhaps  we  think  we 
have  found  the  Atom, — when  all  at  once  the  thunder 
comes  and  the  darkness, — and  we  die  ! — our  lamps 
go  out !  But  we  don't  hear  the  rush  of  wings, 
do  we?  If  we  only  heard  that, — just  the  rush 
of  wings, — we  should  feel  that  Someone  had  gone — 
Somewhere! — and  we  should  try  to  follow — I'm 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  233 

sure  we  should  try.  Perhaps  we  shall  hear  it  when 
we  die — that  rush  of  wings, — and  we  shall  know 
what  we  can't  know  now,  because  our  lamps  go  out 
so  quickly." 

The  Professor  was  silent.  He  could  find  nothing 
to  say,  inasmuch  as  there  was  no  contradiction  to 
offer  to  the  boy's  logic.  Lionel  meanwhile  doubled 
one  leg  loosely  under  him  on  the  grass,  and  throw- 
ing off  his  cap,  let  the  light  flower-scented  wind 
play  with  his  fair  curly  locks. 

"  Now  for  people  who  believe  in  Christ,"  he 
continued — "  There  it  is — that  rush  of  wings  ! — 
because  they  say  '  He  rose  from  the  dead  and 
ascended  into  Heaven.'  And  they  have  just  that 
feeling,  I  suppose — that  Someone  has  gone  Some- 
where, and  they  try  to  follow  as  best  they  can. 
That's  how  it  is,  I  am  sure,  and  it  must  be  a  great 
help  to  them.  I  should  dearly  like  to  believe  some 
of  the  beautiful  things  in  the  Bible.  In  old  Genesis, 
for  instance,  you  know  if  there  were  a  God,  it  would 
be  quite  natural  that  when  He  made  a  place  like 
Clovelly  He  should  be  pleased.  And  then  those 
words  would  be  exactly  right — '  And  God  saw  all 
that  He  had  made,  and  behold  it  was  very  good !' " 

Professor  Cadman-Gore's  love  of  argument  stirred 
rebelliously  in  him,  but  he  gave  it  no  speech.  He 
would  have  liked  to  say  that  there  were  a  great 

20* 


234  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

many  learned  persons  who,  thinking  that  they  saw 
all  that  God  had  made,  said,  "  behold,  it  was  very 
bad  "  !  Humane  persons,  too,  who,  unable  to  look 
behind  the  veil,  could  not  understand  the  reason  of 
the  stress  and  worry  and  torture  of  life ; — but  to  this 
little,  frail,  sorrow-stricken  lad,  but  lately  tottering 
on  the  verge  of  a  dangerous  illness,  he  could  not 
propound  any  problems,  so  he  was  mercifully  silent. 
Once  a  thought  leaped  across  his  brain  like  a  blind- 
ing flash  of  light,  startling  him  with  its  acute  shock, 
— and  it  was  this ; — "  What  a  monstrous  crime  it  is 
to  bring  up  this  child  without  a  faith  /"  Amazed  at 
his  own  involuntary  and  unusual  feeling,  he  reso- 
lutely crushed  it  back  into  the  innermost  depths  of 
his  consciousness, — yet  every  now  and  then  it  would 
persistently  recur  to  him,  accompanied  by  other 
thoughts  of  a  like  nature,  which  worried  him,  and 
which  he  had  never  dwelt  upon  with  so  much  per- 
tinacity before.  A  teasing,  inward  voice  asked  him 
questions,  such  as — "  Was  it  right  to  attack  and  en- 
deavour to  pull  down  Faith,  when  nothing  could  be 
offered  in  place  of  it  ?"  For  Faith,  substitute  Reason, 
argued  the  Professor.  "  But,"  went  on  the  voice, 
"  Reason  is  apt  to  totter  on  its  throne.  Grief  will 
subdue  it, — Passion  overcome  it.  The  ecstasy  of 
love  will  hurl  its  votaries  beyond  all  the  bounds  of 
sense  or  argument, — into  folly,  sin,  desperation, 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  235 

death  !  The  madness  and  abandonment  of  grief  will 
make  of  the  miserable  human  thing  a  mere  despair- 
ing clamour, — a  figure  of  frenzy  with  wild  hair  and 
piteous  eyes, — what  can  Reason  do  with  such  ? 
Only  Faith  can  save, — faith  in  a  God  of  Love;  and 
the  words — '  Whoso  shall  offend  one  of  these  little 
ones  which  believe  in  Me,  it  were  better  for  him  that  a 
millstone  were  hanged  about  his  neck,  and  that  he  were 
drowned  in  the  depth  of  the  sea ;'  must  rest  forever 
as  a  curse  upon  every  man  or  woman  who  by  word, 
deed  or  example,  strives  to  tear  down  the  one  di- 
vine support  of  struggling  souls,  the  one  great  prop 
of  a  world  contending  with  ceaseless  storm."  So 
murmured  the  inward  voice,  and  hearing  it  discourse 
thus  plainly,  the  Professor  thought  his  intellectual 
faculties  must  be  decaying.  Something  strange  was 
at  work  within  him, — something  to  which  he  could 
not  give  a  name, — something  which  perchance  would 
make  of  him  in  time  a  wiser  man  than  he  had  yet 
assumed  himself  to  be. 

During  this  peaceful  and  absolutely  idle  holi- 
day at  Clovelly,  Lionel  used  often  to  go  down 
the  winding  way  from  the  village  to  the  rough 
cobbly  beach,  and  sit  and  talk  to  the  boatmen 
gathered  there.  They  liked  the  little  lad,  and  would 
frequently  take  him  out  in  their  fishing-smacks  for  a 
toss  on  the  sea,  though  from  these  excursions  he  did 


236  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

not  return  much  the  brighter,  but  rather  the  sadder. 
The  Clovelly  men  have  many  a  harrowing  tale  to 
tell  of  shipwreck,  and  of  poor  drowned  creatures 
washed  ashore  with  eyes  staring  open  to  the  pitiless 
sky,  and  hands  clinging  convulsively  to  a  bit  of  rope 
or  spar, — and  such  narratives  as  these  they  would 
relate  to  the  boy  in  their  own  roughly-eloquent  re- 
alistic way  till  his  heart  grew  cold  within  him  and 
he  almost  learned  to  hate  the  sea.  The  old  weary 
wonder  came  back  to  his  brain  and  tortured  him, — 
what  was  the  good  of  it  all !  What  was  the  use  of 
living  or  loving,  or  hoping  or  working  ?  None,  that 
he  could  see ! 

On  one  rather  stormy  afternoon  towards  sunset 
he  was  strolling  as  usual  down  to  the  beach,  when  he 
was  attracted  by  a  little  crowd  of  men  that  stood 
closely  grouped  round  the  door  of  an  open  boat- 
house.  They  were  all  peering  in  with  an  expression 
of  mingled  horror  and  morbid  fascination  in  their 
faces,  and  as  he  came  near,  one  of  them  motioned 
him  to  stand  back. 

"  What's  the  matter  ?"  he  asked,  anxiously — "  Is 
some  one  drowned  ?" 

"  No,  no,  little  measter,"  answered  a  tough  old 
seaman  standing  by.  "  The  sea's  not  to  blame 
this  time.  But  it's  no  sight  for  you, — it's  a  stran- 
ger to  us,  a  sort  o'  queer  tourist-like  chap — he's 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  237 

bin  an'  hanged  hisself  in  Davey  Loame's  boat- 
house." 

"  Hanged  himself!"  cried  Lionel,  horrified — "  Why, 
how  could  he  do  that?" 

"  Easy  enough, — nothin'  easier  if  ye've  got  a  neck- 
ercher  an'  a  nail.  An'  he  had  both.  He  made  a 
loop  wi'  's  neckercher  an'  swung  on  to  an  iron  hook 
in  the  roof.  They've  cut  him  down,  but  he's  stone 
dead, — 'tain't  no  use  tryin'  to  revive  him.  We  don't 
know  who  he  is,  anyway.  But  you  go  right  home, 
little  measter, — 'tain't  the  thing  for  you  to  be  here, 
— now  run  along  just  like  the  good  boy  y'  are  It's 
too  rough  to  take  y'  out  sailin'  to-day." 

Lionel  felt  a  strange  sickness  at  his  heart  as  he 
turned  away  obediently  and  began  to  climb  the 
ascent  towards  the  village.  His  vivid  imagination 
pictured  the  dreadful  strange  dead  body  found  in  the 
boat-house, — and  involuntarily  he  paused  and  looked 
back  over  his  shoulder  out  to  sea.  Great  billows 
rolling  in  from  the  Atlantic  were  racing  shorewards, 
crested  with  foam, — the  long  lines  of  snaky-white 
intermingled  and  wove  themselves  together  like  a 
glittering  net  spread  out  to  catch  and  drown  poor 
helpless  men.  The  impression  of  the  universal 
Cruelty  of  things  weighed  on  the  boy's  mind  with 
renewed  force,  and  at  his  evening  meal  he  looked  so 
pale  and  weary,  that  Professor  Cadman-Gore,  glow- 


238  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

ering  anxiously  at  him  through  his  round  spectacles, 
asked  him  what  was  the  matter  ?  Lionel  could  not 
very  well  explain, — but  at  last,  after  some  hesitation, 
said  he  thought  it  was  the  hanged  man  that  made 
him  feel  miserable. 

"  What  hanged  man  ?"  inquired  the  startled  Pro- 
fessor. 

Whereupon  Lionel  related  all  that  he  knew  con- 
cerning the  disagreeable  incident,  and  the  worthy 
Cadman-Gore  was  somewhat  relieved.  He  had 
thought  that  perhaps  his  young  pupil  had  been 
allowed  to  see  the  body,  and  was  glad  to  learn  that 
this  was  not  the  case. 

"  Oh,  well,  hanging  is  a  very  easy  death,"  he  said, 
placidly — "  Quite  painless  and  merciful.  I  daresay 
the  man  was  some  tramp  who  had  no  money  and 
didn't  know  where  to  get  any." 

"  But  isn't  that  very,  very  dreadful  ?"  asked  Lionel 
— "  Isn't  it  cruel  that  a  poor  man  should  not  be  able 
to  find  one  friend  in  the  whole  world  to  save  him 
from  hanging  himself?" 

"  It  seems  cruel,"  admitted  the  Professor,  gently, 
— he  was  always  gentle  with  Lionel  now — "  But, 
after  all,  who  knows !  Death  is  not  the  worst  evil, 
— we  must  all  die, — and  there  are  some  people  who 
wish  to  die  before  their  time,  and  who  would  be 
very  sorry  if  they  were  hindered  in  making  the 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 


239 


'  happy  dispatch.'  The  Chinese  and  Japanese,  as 
you  have  read  in  some  of  your  books,  attach  no  im- 
portance to  the  act  of  dying,  and  with  them,  suicide 
is  often  considered  honourable.  This  particular  man 
had  the  means  of  death  at  hand, — a  neckerchief  and 
a  strong  nail, — and  that's  all  he  wanted,  I  suppose. 
It  was  rather  selfish  of  him  though  to  use  another 
man's  boat-house  for  the  purpose,  when  he  could 
have  done  it  just  as  well  by  throwing  himself  into 
the  sea." 

Lionel  said  no  more  on  the  subject, — nor  did  he 
make  inquiries  in  the  village  respecting  the  "Un- 
known case  of  suicide"  which  was  presently  chroni- 
cled in  all  the  Devon  newspapers.  But  the  incident 
had  a  considerable  effect  upon  him,  and  remained  a 
fixture  in  his  memory,  all  the  more  pertinaciously 
that  he  was  silent  concerning  it. 

They  returned  at  last  to  Combmartin,  after  having 
stayed  at  Clovelly  nearly  a  fortnight.  Lionel  was 
looking,  on  the  whole,  much  better  for  the  rest  and 
change,  though  his  face  was  still  thin  and  colourless. 
The  sad  expression  of  his  eyes  had  not  altered,  nor 
had  the  inward  sorrow  of  his  heart  for  his  mother's 
loss  abated, — but  a  kind  of  passive  resignation 
mingled  with  hope  now  possessed  and  tranquillised 
him,  and  he  had  secretly  determined  to  try  and  get 
on  extra  fast  with  his  studies,  and  grow  up  quickly, 


240  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

so  that  as  soon  as  he  became  a  man  he  might  seek 
his  mother  out  wherever  she  was  and  persuade 
her  to  come  back  to  him.  Of  her  faults  or  her 
shame  he  never  thought, — she  was  his  mother — 
and  that  was  enough  for  him.  He  said  some- 
thing about  his  intention  of  studying  hard  to  the 
Professor  as  they  drove  along  the  lovely  Devon- 
shire lanes  on  their  homeward  way, — but  that 
gentleman  did  not  seem  to  take  up  the  matter  very 
enthusiastically. 

"  Certainly,"  he  said,  "  you  can  continue  a  few 
of  your  studies  if  you  like, — but  you  must  not 
resume  the  whole  course  at  once.  To-morrow 
morning,  for  instance,  you  can  go  for  a  ramble 
just  as  you  have  been  doing  at  Clovelly,  and  if 
you  feel  inclined  to  take  a  book  with  you,  why 
do  so  by  all  means.  But  as  you  have  been  ill,  we 
must  not  commence  work  in  too  much  of  a  hurry 
or  we  shall  have  the  doctor  coming  round  again." 

He  produced  his  new  smile, — the  smile  he  had 
been  cultivating  with  such  success  during  the 
past  twelve  days, — and  Lionel  smiled  gratefully 
in  response.  A  happy  thought  flashed  across  the 
boy's  mind, — as  he  was  to  enjoy  the  freedom  of 
a  "  ramble"  all  to  himself  the  next  morning,  he 
would  go  and  see  Jessamine  Dale !  How  pleased 
she  would  be ! — how  surprised  ! — how  her  beautiful 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  241 

little  face  would  dimple  all  over  with  mischievous 
and  winsome  smiles  ! — how  her  sweet  blue  eyes 
would  shine  and  sparkle !  A  quiver  of  delight 
and  expectancy  ran  through  him  and  sent  colour 
to  his  cheeks,  and  as  the  carriage  rattled  up  the 
Combmartin  street  and  turned  into  the  familiar 
avenue  leading  up  to  the  house  he  at  present 
called  home,  he  felt  almost  happy.  His  father 
had  returned  from  London,  and  received  him  with 
chilly  dignity. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you  looking  so  robust,  Lionel," 
he  said,  as  he  touched  his  son's  tremblingly-offered 
little  hand, — then  turning  to  Professor  Cadman-Gore, 
he  added — "  I  trust,  Professor,  your  patience  has  not 
been  too  severely  tried  ?" 

The  Professor  looked  at  him  with  quite  a  whimsi- 
cal air. 

"  Well,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  Valliscourt,  it  hasn't 
been  tried  at  all !"  he  answered — "  I've  enjoyed  my- 
self very  much,  and  that's  a  fact.  Clovelly's  a 
charming  place,  and  the  people  are  interesting  as 
being  just  in  the  transition-stage  between  primitive 
simplicity  and  modern  cupidity.  There  are  rather 
too  many  tourists  and  amateur  photographers, — but 
one  can't  have  everything  one's  own  way  in  this 
world, — even  you  must  have  found  that  out  occa- 
sionally." 

L          a  21 


242  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

Mr.  Valliscourt's  smooth  brow  reddened  slightly. 
He  had  indeed  "  found  that  out"  to  his  cost ;  but  he 
had  yet  to  discover  that  even  so  far  as  the  Theory 
of  Atoms  went,  the  human  atom  was  bound  to  follow 
the  course  of  the  Divine  one,  or  else  get  into  a 
strangely  contrary  path  of  its  own,  ending  in  dark- 
ness and  disaster.  For  the  universe  is  composed  as 
a  perfect  harmony, — and  if  one  note  sounds  a  dis- 
cord it  is  sooner  or  later  invariably  silenced.  Every 
instrument  must  be  in  tune  to  play  the  great  Sym- 
phony well, — otherwise  there  is  a  clashing  of  ele- 
ments, a  casting  out  of  unworthy  performers,  and  a 
new  beginning. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

NEXT  day  the  weather  was  warm  and  sunny, — 
and  when  Lionel  formally  applied  to  his  tutor  for 
permission  to  go  and  enjoy  the  already  promised 
"  ramble,"  it  was  at  once  granted.  Being  a  con- 
scientious little  fellow  he  voluntarily  suggested  taking 
his  Latin  grammar  with  him,  but  the  Professor  did 
not  encourage  him  in  this  idea. 

"  No,"  he  said — "  As  I  told  you  yesterday,  you 
can  amuse  yourself  as  you  like  this  morning, — to- 
morrow, perhaps  we  will  resume  the  lessons." 

With  a  bright  smile  and  flashing  eye,  Lionel 
thanked  him,  and  quickly  putting  on  his  cap,  he 
hastened  out  of  the  schoolroom,  down  the  stairs 
and  into  the  garden.  He  was  quite  light-hearted, — 
indeed  he  felt  almost  ashamed  to  be  so  glad.  Life 
had  not  changed  for  him  just  because  the  sun  was 
shining  and  the  birds  were  singing,  and  he  was  going 
to  see  little  Jessamine  Dale!  Things  remained 
exactly  as  they  were, — he  was  nothing  but  a  lonely 
boy  whose  mother  had  wilfully  deserted  him, — had 
he  forgotten  that  misery  and  her  disgrace  so  soon  ? 
No, — he  had  not  forgotten ;  his  was  a  nature  that 
could  never  forget ;  but  youth  is  youth,  and  will,  in 

243 


244  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

its  own  season,  have  its  way  despite  all  sorrow  and 
restraint, — and  somehow  on  this  beautiful  bright 
morning  he  could  not  feel  sad.  There  was  some- 
thing radiant  and  hopeful  in  the  aspect  of  the  very 
landscape,  green  with  leafage  and  golden  with  ripe 
corn, — and  as  he  swung  open  his  father's  carriage- 
gate  and  went  out  along  the  high  road  towards  the 
grey  and  ancient  church  of  Combmartin,  where  he 
thought  it  was  most  likely  he  should  find  Reuben 
Dale  and  Jessamine  also,  he  was  quietly  happy. 
All  sorts  of  plans  were  forming  in  his  little  head, — 
he  was  beginning  to  like  Professor  Cadman-Gore, 
and  he  meant  to  ask  him  if  he  might  not  go  on 
studying  under  him  at  his  (the  Professor's)  own 
house  for  a  time  before  entering  a  public  school, — 
that  is,  if  he  were  indeed  intended  to  enter  a 
public  school, — of  which  he  was  always  doubtful. 
True,  his  father  had  once  said  "  Winchester," — but 
whether  he  meant  Winchester,  was  quite  another 
matter.  Mr.  Montrose  had  urged  sending  him  to 
a  public  school,  and  Mr.  Valliscourt  had  curtly 
negatived  the  proposal  entirely.  Lionel's  own 
opinion  was  that  his  education  would  always  be 
carried  on  under  a  series  of  selected  tutors,  in 
order  to  avoid  the  conventional  "  church  going"  on 
Sundays  common  to  all  schools,  and  to  which  his 
father  had  such  a  rooted  and  obstinate  objection. 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  245 

And  as,  according  to  all  accounts,  no  wiser  man 
than  Professor  Cadman-Gore  existed,  why  should 
he  not  remain  with  that  head  and  front  of  all 
available  knowledge  ?  He  thought  his  father  could 
not  possibly  raise  any  obstacle  to  such  a  scheme, 
— "  and  then,"  he  reflected, — "  though  even  the  Pro- 
fessor can't  tell  me  what  I  want  to  know  about  the 
Atom,  he  might  put  me  gradually  in  the  way  of  rind- 
ing that  out  for  myself.  I  believe  he  really  likes  me 
a  little  now, — I  suppose  we  got  to  know  each  other 
better  at  Clovelly.  At  any  rate,  for  all  his  queer 
looks  he  understands  me  more  than  my  father  does. 
It  is  very  difficult  for  a  boy  to  be  understood  by  old 
people,  I  think.  I'm  sure  a  great  many  boys  never 
get  understood  at  all,  and  yet  they  have  their  ideas 
about  things  quite  as  much  as  grown-up  persons  do. 
How  pretty  the  church  looks  with  all  that  sunshine 
streaming  on  the  old  tower  ! — and  there's  Mr.  Dale  ! 
— digging  a  grave,  as  usual !" 

With  a  smile  he  quickened  his  pace  to  a  run,  and, 
opening  the  churchyard  gate,  went  in  quickly  but 
noiselessly,  meaning  to  take  Jessamine  by  surprise 
if  she  were  anywhere  near.  Treading  lightly  and 
almost  on  tiptoe  he  came  to  within  about  an  arm's 
length  of  Reuben  Dale  without  the  latter  perceiving 
him,  and  then  stopped  short, — struck  by  a  sudden 
alarm.  For  Reuben's  silvery  head  was  bent  low  and 

21* 


246  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

heavily  over  his  work, — and  from  Reuben's  broad 
breast  came  great  choking  sobs  terrible  to  hear,  as 
one  by  one  the  spadefuls  of  red-brown  earth  were 
thrown  up  on  the  green  turf,  and  the  significant  hol- 
low in  the  ground  was  shaped  slowly  in  a  small  dark 
square,  to  the  length  of  a  little  child.  A  mist  rose 
before  Lionel's  eyes, — a  strange  contraction  caught 
his  throat  with  a  sense  of  suffocation, — he  advanced 
tremblingly,  his  hands  outstretched. 

"  Mr.  Dale,"  he  faltered,  "  Oh— Mr.  Dale  .  .  ." 
Reuben  looked  up, — great  tears  were  rolling  down 
his  face, — and  for  a  moment  he  said  nothing.  The 
dreadful  inarticulate  despair  expressed  in  his  features 
and  attitude  was  harrowing  to  behold  ; — and  Lionel 
felt  as  though  an  icy  hand  had  suddenly  clutched 
his  heart  and  stilled  its  beating.  Fear  held  him 
speechless, — he  could  only  wait  in  breathless  terror 
for  something  to  be  told, — something  he  could  not 
guess  at,  but  which  instinctively  he  dreaded  to  hear. 
And  all  at  once  Reuben  spoke,  in  hoarse,  tremulous 
accents, — 

"  She  sent  her  love  t'ye,  my  dear, — she  sent  her 
love, — 'twos  the  last  thing, — '  my  love  to  Lylie,' — I 
wosn't  to  forgit  it, — the  blessed  little  angel-smile  she 
had  too  in  sayin'  it,  my  Jas'min  flower  ! — '  my  love  to 
Lylie !'  they  wos  her  last  words,  a  minit  'fore  she 
died." 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  247 

"  Died !"  gasped  Lionel,  a  horrible  tremor  shaking 
his  limbs — "Died! — Jessamine?  .  .  .  Jessamine, 
dead  ?  No,  no,  no  /  It's  not  possible, — it  can't  be ! 
— you  know  it  can't, — you're  dreaming  ...  it  can't 
be  true  .  .  ." 

A  loud  noise  was  in  his  ears  like  the  rushing  of 
waters, — the  haze  that  hung  before  his  eyes  turned 
a  dull  red, — and  with  a  sudden  wild  scream  he  sprang 
to  Reuben  like  some  poor  little  hunted,  frantic  ani- 
mal, clinging  to  him,  hiding  his  head  against  him, 
and  gripping  his  arms  convulsively. 

"  No — no ! — not  dead !  Don't  say  it ! — not  little 
Jessamine !  Oh,  you're  not — you're  not  going  to 
put  her  down  there  in  the  cold  earth ! — not  little 
Jessamine  !  Oh,  hold  me ! — I'm  frightened — I  am, 
indeed  !  I  can't  bear  it, — I  can't,  I  can't ! — oh,  Jessa- 
mine !  .  .  .  she  isn't  dead,— not  really ! — oh,  do  say 
she  isn't, — it  would  be  too  wicked — too  cruel  .  .  ." 

Reuben  Dale,  startled  out  of  his  own  grief  by  the 
boy's  terrible  frenzy,  let  his  spade  fall,  and  held  the 
little  fellow  tenderly  in  his  arms,  close  to  his  breast, 
and  with  a  strong  effort  strove  himself  to  be  calm  in 
order  to  soothe  the  younger  sufferer. 

"  Didn't  ye  hear  of  it,  my  dear  ?"  he  murmured,  in 
low,  broken  tones — "  But  no, — I  forgot — ye  wouldn't 
hear, — ye've  bin  away  a  goodish  bit ; — I  heerd  as 
how  ye'd  been  ill  an'  taken  to  Clovelly, — an'  'twosn't 


248  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

likely  any  folks  would  tell  ye  of  just  a  poor  man's 
trouble.  I  went  down  yon  to  your  feyther's  house 
to  tell  ye, — for  Jas'min  was  iver  talkin'  of  ye,  when- 
soever the  fever  in  her  little  throat  would  let  her 
speak, — an'  that's  how  I  heerd  ye  were  gone.  'Twos 
the  diphtheria  the  darlin'  caught, — it's  bin  bad  about 
the  village, — an'  'twos  onny  a  matter  o'  fower  days 
that  she  suffered.  An'  we  did  all  we  could  for  the 
lamb, — an'  Dr.  Hartley,  God  bless  'im,  wos  wi'  her 
day  an'  night,  an'  scarcely  breakin'  fast,  the  good 
man  that  he  is, — an'  I  do  b'lieve  he'd  'a'  laid  down 
his  own  life  to  save  'er,  as  I'd  ha'  laid  down  mine. 
But  'twos  all  no  use, — she  wos  just  too  sweet  a  blos- 
som to  be  spared  to  the  likes  of  us,  my  lad, — an' — 
an'  so  God  took  'er,  as  it's  right  an'  just  He  should 
do  what  He  wills  wi'  's  own, — but  oh,  my  lad,  it's 
powerful  'ard  on  me,  who  am  a  weak  an'  a  selfish 
sinner  at  best, — it's  powerful  'ard !  First  the  mother, 
— then  the  child ! — Lord,  give  me  strength  to  say, 
'  Thy  will  be  done,'  for  my  own  force  as  a  man  is 
gone  out  o'  me,  an'  I'm  but  a  broken  reed  in  a  rough 
wind !" 

His  head  drooped  forlornly  over  the  boy  he  held 
clasped  in  his  arms  and  who  still  clung  nervously  to 
him  shaking  like  an  aspen  leaf  and  moaning  queru- 
lously as  though  in  physical  pain.  The  blue  sky 
above  them  was  clear  of  all  clouds,  and  the  sun 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 


249 


shone  royally,  pouring  down  its  golden  beams  into 
the  little  unfinished  grave,  like  a  ray  of  light  from 
some  left- open  gate  of  Paradise.  Suddenly,  and 
with  a  pale  horror  imprinted  on  his  countenance 
that  made  it  look  older  by  a  dozen  years,  Lionel 
lifted  himself  and  turned  slowly  round, — his  eyes 
were  dry  and  feverishly  bright, — his  forehead  puck- 
ered like  that  of  some  aged  man. 

"You  are  going  to  put  her  down  there?"  he 
whispered,  fearfully — pointing  to  the  grave, — "  Little 
Jessamine  ?  You  are  going  to  cover  up  her  beauti- 
ful curls  and  blue  eyes  in  all  that  red-brown  earth  ? 
How  can  you  have  the  heart  to  do  it ! — oh,  how  can 
you !  She  used  to  laugh  and  play, — she  will  never 
laugh  or  play  any  more — you  will  hide  her  down 
there  for  ever — for  ever!"  and  his  voice  rose  to  a 
wail  of  agony — "  We  shall  never  see  her  again, — 
never ! — oh,  Jessamine  ! — Jessamine !" 

The  stricken  Reuben  pierced  to  the  very  soul  by 
this  wild  grief  in  which  he  had  the  greatest  share, 
knew  of  no  other  consolation  save  that  which  he 
derived  from  his  simple  and  steadfast  faith  in  God, 
but  this  supported  him  when  otherwise  he  would 
have  altogether  broken  down.  Gently  stroking  the 
boy's  curls  with  one  big  work-worn  hand  he  mur- 
mured, pityingly, — 

"  Poor  lad,  poor  lad !     She  wos  fond  of  ye, — she 


250  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

sent  ye  her  love  at  the  last, — ye  must  think  o'  that, 
my  dear.  An'  once  when  the  pain  wos  better  an' 
she  could  speak  clear,  she  said,  '  Tell  Lylie  I'll  see 
'im  soon, — long  'fore  he  grows  up  to  be  a  big  man.' 
Them  wos  her  very  words,  the  darlin',  but  she  wos 
a-ramblin'  like  an'  didn't  know  what  she  wos  a-talkin' 
of.  She  died  easy, — bless  the  Lord  for  all  His 
mercies ! — night  afore  last  she  put  her  arms  out  to 
me  an'  said,  '  Dada !'  quite  bright  like, — that  wos 
how  she  called  me  when  she  wos  a  babby, — then, 
smilin', — '  My  love  to  Lylie'  an'  just  went  off  quiet. 
An'  there  she  lies  in  her  little  coffin,  \vi'  a  wreath  o' 
jessamine  round  her  hair,  an'  a  posy  o'  jessamine  in 
her  wee  hands, — ay,  we  ha'  pulled  all  the  jess'min 
flowers  off  the  tree  at  our  door  to  put  wi'  her; — we 
want  none  o'  them  for  our  sad  selves, — now !" 

A  rising  sob  choked  his  brave  utterance, — but 
Lionel  was  still  dry-eyed,  and  now  moving  restlessly, 
withdrew  from  the  kind  embrace  which  had  sup- 
ported him.  Stumbling  giddily  forward  a  step  or 
two  he  fell  on  his  knees  beside  the  dark  little  square 
in  the  ground. 

"  Down  there !"  he  whispered,  hoarsely,  peering 
into  the  very  depths  of  the  grave — "  Down  there ! — 
Jessamine !'' 

He  gave  a  convulsive  gesture  with  his  hands, 
clasping  and  unclasping  them  nervously,  and  prying 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  251 

still  with  an  intense,  passionate  searching  horror  into 
the  dank  mould.  Reuben's  touch,  light  and  caress- 
ing as  a  woman's,  fell  gently  on  his  shoulder. 

"  Nay,  my  little  lad !"  he  said,  the  tears  in  his 
voice  shaking  its  deep  tone  to  tenderest  pathos — 
"  Not  down  there  ! — don't  ye  think  it !  Up  there, 
my  dear,  up  there !"  and  he  raised  his  steadfast  eyes 
to  the  perfect  blue  of  the  radiant  heaven — "  Up  there, 
beyond  all  that  summer  light  an'  shinin'  glory, — in 
the  lands  o'  God  an'  His  holy  angels, — that's  where 
Jess'mine  is  now  !  '  With  Christ,  which  is  far  better !' 
Ay,  my  dear,  far  better !  For  its  onny  my  selfish 
heart  which  grudges  her  to  God, — it's  just  me,  a 
weak,  ignorant  man  what  can't  see  the  Lord's 
meanin'  in  takin'  her  from  me,  but  surely  He  knows 
best, — He  must  know  best.  An'  mebbe  He  has  seen 
the  darlin'  wosn't  fitted  for  the  hard  an'  thorny  ways 
o'  life, — an'  so  in  very  kindness  has  took  her  to 
Himself  an'  made  of  her  an  angel  'fore  her  time. 
For  angel  she  is  now  ye  may  be  sure, — as  innocent 
as  ever  stood  afore  the  Great  White  Throne, — an' 
it's  not  Jess'mine  I'm  layin'  down  here  among  the 
daisies,  my  lad,  but  just  the  little  earthly  shape  of 
her  what  was  s'  pretty  an*  light  an'  gamesome  like, 
— we  couldn't  choose  but  love  it,  all  of  us, — but 
Jess'mine  herself  is  livin'  yet, — yes,  my  dear,  livin' 
an'  lovin'  o'  me  as  much  an'  more  than  ever  she  did, 


252  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

— an'  there's  naught  shall  come  atween  us  now. 
Mother  an'  child  are  wi'  the  Lord, — an'  in  a  matter 
o'  short  years  I'll  meet  them  both  again  an'  know  as 
how  'twos  for  the  best,  though  now  it  seems  a  mys- 
tery an'  partin's  hard !" 

Lionel  looked  up, — his  face  was  ashen  pale, — his 
lips  were  set  in  a  thin,  vindictive  line. 

"  You  believe  all  that !"  he  said,  wildly — "  But  you 
are  wrong, — quite  wrong!  It  isn't  true, — it's  all 
silly  superstition !  There  is  no  God, — no  heaven ! 
— there  are  no  such  creatures  as  angels !  Oh,  you 
poor,  poor  man ! — you  do  not  know — you  have 
never  learnt ! — There  is  nothing  more  for  us  after 
death — nothing ! — you  will  never  see  little  Jessa- 
mine again — never — never  !"  He  rose  slowly  from 
his  kneeling  position  on  the  turf,  looking  so  old  and 
weird  and  desperate  that  Reuben  recoiled  from  him 
as  from  something  unnatural  and  monstrous.  "  You 
will  put  her  down  there,"  he  went  on, — "  in  her 
coffin,  with  all  the  jessamine  flowers  about  her,  and 
you  will  shovel  the  earth  over  her,  and  very  soon 
the  worms  will  crawl  over  her  poor  little  face  and 
in  and  out  her  curls,  and  make  of  her  what  you 
would  not  look  at, — what  you  would  not  touch  /" — 
and  he  trembled  violently  as  with  an  ague  fit — "And 
yet  you  loved  her !  And  you  can  talk  of  a  God ! 
Why  a  God  who  would  wilfully  take  Jessamine 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  253 

away  from  you  would  be  the  cruellest,  wickedest 
monster  imaginable !  What  reason  could  He  give — 
what  object  could  there  be,  in  first  giving  her  to 
you  and  then  killing  her  and  making  you  miserable? 
No,  no ! — there  is  no  God ;  you  have  not  read, — 
you  have  not  studied  things  and  you  do  not  know, 
— but  you  are  all  wrong.  There  is  no  God, — there 
is  only  the  Atom  which  does  not  care  !" 

Reuben,  filled  with  alarm  as  well  as  grief,  thought 
the  boy  raved,  and  endeavoured  to  take  him  again 
into  his  arms,  but  Lionel  shrank  back,  and  shud- 
deringly  repulsed  him. 

"  Poor  little  fellow,  he's  just  crazed  wi'  the  shock 
an'  doesn't  for  the  moment  know  what  he's  sayin'," 
thought  the  simple-hearted  man,  as  he  compassion- 
ately watched  the  childish  figure  of  despair,  frozen, 
as  it  seemed,  into  a  statuesque  immobility  on  the 
edge  of  Jessamine's  grave — "  If  he  could  onny  cry  a 
bit  'twould  do  him  good,  surely."  And  struck  by  a 
sudden  idea,  he  said  aloud — "  Will  ye  come  wi'  me, 
my  dear,  an'  see  Jess'mine  now  as  she  lies  asleep 
among  her  flowers? — 'twouldn't  frighten  ye, — she's 
just  a  little  smilin'  angel,  wi'  God's  love  written  on 
her  face.  Will  ye  come  ?" 

"  No !"  answered  Lionel,  loudly  and  almost 
fiercely — "  I  cannot !  You  forget — I  came  out 
this  morning  to  see  her  alive,  with  all  her  curls 


254  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

dancing  about,  and  her  eyes  shining, — oh,  I  was 
so  happy  !  And  all  the  time  she  was  dead  !  No,  I 
couldn't  look  at  her, — I  couldn't ! — I  should  be 
thinking  of  this  grave,  .  .  .  and  the  worms,  .  .  . 
there  is  one  down  there  just  now,  .  .  .  crawling — 
crawling, — see  !"  and  he  suddenly  began  to  laugh 
deliriously,  dry  sobs  intermingling  with  his  laughter 
— "  Oh  ! — and  you — you  can  actually  believe  it  is  a 
good  God  that  has  killed  Jessamine !" 

Flinging  his  hands  up  above  his  head,  he  sud- 
denly turned  away  and  ran, — ran  furiously,  out  of 
the  churchyard  and  away  up  the  road,  not  in  the 
direction  of  his  home,  but  up  towards  the  deep  green 
woods  that  hang  like  a  glorious  pavilion  over  the 
nestling  village,  giving  it  shade  even  in  the  most 
scorching  heats  of  the  summer  sun.  Reuben  looked 
after  him,  wondering  and  half  afraid. 

"  God  help  the  child  !"  he  murmured — "  He  seems 
gone  clean  mad  like  in  's  grief!  An'  it's  something 
more  than  my  Jess'mine's  death  that's  working  in  's 
mind,  poor  lad, — it's  a  trouble  out  o'  reach  some- 
where. An'  now  I  mind  me,  he's  lost  his  mother  by 
a  far  worse  partin'  than  death, — disgrace !  Ah, 
well !"  and  taking  up  his  spade  he  went  resolutely 
to  the  resumption  of  his  sad  task,  carefully  smooth- 
ing and  patting  the  earth  round  the  interior  of  his 
little  child's  grave,  with  his  own  tender  hands  and 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  255 

removing  the  poor  worm  Lionel  had  perceived, 
gently  and  without  loathing,  in  the  manner  of  one 
for  whom  all  God's  creation,  even  the  lowest  portion 
of  it,  had  a  certain  sacredness  because  of  the  Divine 
Spirit  moving  in  all  and  through  all.  "  It's  hard  for 
a  grown  man  like  me  to  bear  a  sorrow, — an'  it's 
double  hard  for  a  little  lad  like  him.  He  sees  nowt 
o'  God  in  's  trouble, — onny  the  trouble  itself.  Lord 
help  us  all  for  the  poor  sinful  creatures  that  we  be ! 
Ah,  Jess'mine,  Jess'mine  ! — my  little  lass, — my  little 
flower! — who'd  ha'  thought  God  would  ha'  wanted 
ye  s'  soon  !"  Tears  rushed  to  his  eyes  and  blotted 
out  the  landscape,  falling  one  by  one  into  the  small 
grave  as  he  dug  it  deeper — "  But  He's  a  God  o' 
Love,  an'  He  winnut  mind  my  grievin'  a  bit, — He 
knows  it's  just  human-like,  an'  comes  from  the  poor 
broken  heart  o'  me  that's  weak  an'  ignorant, — an'  by- 
an'-by,  when  my  mind  clears,  He'll  gi'  me  grace  to 
see  'twos  for  the  best, — aye,  for  the  best !  Mother 
an'  child  in  heaven,  an'  I  alone  on  earth, — all  the  joy 
for  them  an'  all  the  sorrow  for  me  ! — well,  that's  right 
enough, — an'  surely  God'll  send  down  both  my 
angels  to  fetch  me  when  my  time  comes  to  go.  An' 
that's  onny  a  little  while  to  wait,  my  Jess'mine 
flower  ! — onny  a  little  while  !" 

He  dashed  away  his  tears  with  one  hand,  and  con- 
tinued digging  patiently  till  his  melancholy  work  was 


256  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

done, — then,  untying  a  bundle  of  sweet  myrtle  he 
had  beside  him,  he  completely  lined  the  little  grave 
with  the  fragrant  sprays,  making  it  look  like  a  nest 
of  tender  green, — then  placing  two  boards  above  it 
to  protect  it  from  the  night-dews  and  the  chance  of 
rain,  he  shouldered  his  spade  and  went  slowly  home- 
ward, pondering  sadly  on  the  heavy  trial  awaiting 
him  next  day  when  all  that  was  mortal  of  his  darling 
child  would  be  committed,  with  prayer  and  holy 
blessing,  to  the  dust. 

Meanwhile,  Lionel  had  passed  a  strange  time  of 
torture  alone  in  the  woods.  When  he  ran  away 
from  the  churchyard,  he  was  hardly  conscious  of 
what  he  was  doing, — and  it  was  not  till  he  found 
himself  in  a  bosky  grove  among  thickly  planted 
oaks  and  pine-trees  that  he  became  aware  of  his 
own  sentient  existence  once  more.  There  was  a 
heavy  burning  pain  in  his  head,  and  his  eyes  were 
aching  and  dim.  He  flung  himself  down  on  the 
mossy  turf  and  tried  to  think.  Jessamine  was 
dead !  The  little  laughing  thing  with  the  divine 
blue  eyes  and  the  sweet  baby  smile  was  lying  cold 
and  stiff  in  her  coffin.  It  seemed  incredible.  He 
remembered  her  as  he  had  last  seen  her,  peeping 
through  the  tangle  of  her  own  namesake  flowers 
and  saying  in  her  pretty  soft  plaintive  voice,  "  Poor 
Lylie!  I'se  'fraid  you  won't  see  me  never  no 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  257 

more !"  And  then  that  final  farewell, — "  Good- 
bye, Lylie ! — Not  for  long !" 

Not  for  long! — and  now — it  was  good-bye  for 
ever !  A  faint  cry  broke  from  the  boy's  lips — 
"  Oh,  little  Jessamine !  Poor  little  Jessamine !" 
But  no  tears  fell, — the  fountain  of  those  drops 
of  healing  seemed  dried  up  beneath  the  scorching 
weight  that  pressed  upon  his  brain.  Jessamine ! — 
could  it  be  possible  that  there  was  nothing  left  of 
her, — nothing  but  senseless  clay  ?  All  that  trust- 
ful tenderness,  that  lovely  innocence,  that  quaint 
and  solemn  faith  of  hers  in  Christ  and  in  the 
angels, — what  was  it  all  for  ?  Why  should  such  a 
sweet  and  delicate  little  spirit  be  created,  only  to 
perish  ? 

"  It  is  cruel !"  he  said  aloud,  turning  his  pale, 
small,  agonised  face  up  to  the  network  of  leafy 
branches  crossing  the  blue  of  the  sky — "  It  is  cruel 
to  have  made  her, — it  is  cruel  to  have  made  me, — 
if  death  is  the  only  end.  It  is  senseless, — even 
wicked  !  If  death  were  not  all,  then  I  could  under- 
stand"— He  paused,  and  his  eyes  rested  on  a  tuft  of 
meadow-sweet  growing  close  beside  him — "  Where 
&Q  you  go  to  when  you  die?"  he  asked,  addressing 
the  flower — "  Have  you  what  some  people  call  a 
soul, — a  soul  that  takes  wings  and  flies  away  to 
bloom  again  in  a  more  beautiful  shape  elsewhere? 
r  22* 


258  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

You  might  do  this, — of  course  you  might, — and  we 
should  never  know!"  He  rose  to  his  feet  and 
stood,  musing  darkly,  with  small  hands  clenched 
and  lips  set  hard.  "  Perhaps  the  learned  men  are 
not  so  wise  as  they  think, — it  is  possible  they  may 
be  mistaken.  The  Atom  they  argue  about  may 
be  a  God  after  all, — and  even  Christ,  whom  some 
say  is  a  myth,  and  others  describe  as  merely  a 
good  man  who  wished  to  reform  the  Jews,  may  be 
the  Divine  Being  the  Testament  tells  us  of.  And 
there  may  be  another  life  after  this  one,  and  another 
world  where  Jessamine  is  now.  The  question  is 
how  to  be  quite  sure  of  it?"  He  walked  one  or 
two  paces, — then  a  sudden  thought  flashed  across 
him, — a  thought  which  lit  his  eyes  with  strange 
brilliancy  and  flushed  his  cheeks  to  a  feverish  red. 
"  I  know !"  he  whispered, — "  I  know  the  best  way 
to  discover  the  real  secret, — I  must  find  it  out — and 
I  will !" 

And  all  at  once  invested  with  a  curious  tran- 
quillity of  movement  and  demeanour,  he  went  slowly 
out  of  the  woods,  and  down  the  hill  up  which  he  had 
scrambled  in  such  frenzied  haste, — and  looking 
at  the  ground  steadfastly  as  he  walked,  he  passed 
the  church  and  churchyard  gate  without  once 
raising  his  eyes.  In  a  few  minutes  he  had  entered 
his  father's  domain,  where  he  met  Professor 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 


259 


Cadman-Gore  marching  briskly  up  and  down  the 
carriage-drive. 

"  Hullo  !"  said  that  gentleman — "  Had  a  good 
scramble  ?" 

Lionel  made  no  answer. 

The  Professor  eyed  him  narrowly. 

"  Feeling  ill  again  ?"  he  demanded. 

Lionel  forced  a  pale  smile. 

"  Not  exactly  ill,"  he  answered — "  I've  been  to 
the  churchyard, — and — and  the  sexton  there  is 
digging  a  grave  for  his  little  girl, — his  only  child, 
who  died  suddenly  of  diphtheria  while  we  were 
away  at  Clovelly.  She  was  quite  a  baby — only 
six, — and — and  I  knew  her — her  name  was 
Jessamine." 

Professor  Cadman-Gore  was  a  little  bewildered. 
The  dull  precise  manner  in  which  the  boy  spoke, — 
the  way  he  kept  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  ground,  and 
the  odd  frowning  contraction  of  his  brows,  struck 
the  worthy  preceptor  as  somewhat  singular.  But 
being  quite  in  the  dark  as  to  the  Jessamine  Dale 
episode,  he  took  refuge  in  generalities. 

"  You  shouldn't  wander  about  in  churchyards," 
he  said,  testily — "  Nasty  damp  places  .  .  ." 

"  Yes, — where  we  must  all  go  at  last,"  said  Lionel, 
still  smiling  his  stiff  difficult  little  smile — "  Down 
among  the  worms — all  of  us — and  nothing  more !" 


260  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

"  Dear,  dear  me !"  growled  the  Professor,  begin- 
ning to  feel  almost  angry — "I  wish  you  wouldn't 
talk  such  nonsense,  Lionel, — I've  told  you  of  it  be- 
fore— it's  absolutely  provoking !" 

"  Why  ?"  asked  the  boy—"  We  do  die,— all  of  us, 
don't  we  ?" 

"  Of  course  we  do, — but  we  needn't  talk  about  it 
or  think  about  it,"  snapped  out  the  Professor — 
"While  we  live,  let  us  live, — that  was  a  favourite 
maxim  with  the  ancient  Greeks,  who  enjoyed  both 
life  and  learning, — and  it's  a  very  sensible  one  too." 

"Do  you  really  think  so? — really?"  and  Lionel 
looked  at  him  with  such  an  aged  and  worn  pucker- 
ing of  his  features  that  his  tutor  was  quite  startled — 
"  But  they  were  only  fools  after  all, — they  died — and 
their  cities  and  wonderful  colleges  perished,  —  and 
what  was  the  good  of  all  their  learning  ?" 

"  It  has  come  down  to  us  /"  replied  the  Professor, 
drawing  himself  up  and  expanding  his  meagre  chest 
in  a  sudden  glow  of  intellectual  pride — "  It  has 
formed  the  foundation  of  all  literature.  Isn't  that 
something  ?" 

Lionel  sighed.  "  I  suppose  it  is, — it  all  depends 
on  how  you  look  at  it,"  he  said — "  But  you  see  one 
would  like  to  know  where  even  such  a  thing  as  liter- 
ature leads  to, — and  where  it  is  to  end.  I  don't 
think  we  can  trace  its  actual  beginning,  because  there 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  261 

have  been  so  many  civilisations  which  are  all  for- 
gotten and  buried  now.  For  instance,  the  ancient 
Mexicans  believed  that  the  existence  of  the  world 
was  made  up  of  five  successive  ages,  and  five  suc- 
cessive suns, — there  have  been  four  suns  lit  and 
burnt  out  according  to  them,  and  ours  now  shining 
is  the  fifth, — and  last!  Of  course  that's  only  their 
myth  and  idea, — but  I  do  think  everything  ever  dis- 
covered is  in  time  forgotten,  and  has  to  begin  all 
over  again.  It  seems  very  stupid  and  useless  to  me, 
— the  constant  repetition  of  everything  for  nothing." 

The  Professor  glowered  severely  at  him. 

"  I  think  you're  tired,"  he  said,  with  affected  gruff- 
ness — "you'd  better  go  and  sit  quietly  in  the  school- 
room, or  lie  down.  It's  no  use  over-fatiguing 
yourself.  And  what  you  wanted  to  go  to  the 
churchyard  and  see  a  grave  dug  for,  I  can't  imagine. 
It's  rather  a  morbid  taste !" 

"  I  didn't  go  to  see  a  grave  dug,"  answered  Lionel, 
steadily, — "  I  went  to  see  the  little  girl — who  is  dead. 
I  thought  she  was  alive, — I  didn't  know — I  didn't 
expect  .  .  ."  there  was  a  painful  throbbing  in  his 
throat, — he  bit  his  lips  hard, — anon  he  resumed 
slowly — "  You  know — for  I've  often  told  you — that 
I  can't  see  any  sensible  reason  why  there  should  be 
life  or  death.  Everything  seems  explainable  but 
that  I  am  very  interested  in  it, — but  even  you  can't 


262  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

tell  me  what  I  want  to  know, — and  so  I  must  try  to 
find  it  out  as  well  as  I  can, — by  myself." 

He  lifted  his  cap  with  the  usual  gentle  salute  he 
always  gave  his  tutor,  and  went  indoors.  The  Pro- 
fessor looked  after  him  with  an  uncomfortable  sense 
of  foreboding. 

"  An  odd  boy !"  he  mused — "  A  very  odd  boy, — 
yet  a  thinking  boy,  and  clever  and  docile.  If  his 
strength  will  only  hold  out  he  will  be  a  brilliant 
man  and  a  magnificent  scholar, — but  his  health  is 
capricious."  He  walked  with  long  strides  a  few 
paces,  and  suddenly  stopped,  a  grim  smile  playing 
across  his  features.  "  It's  a  singular  thing, — a  very 
singular  thing, — I  should  never  have  thought  it  pos- 
sible,— but  I  certainly  find  him  a  lovable  boy.  Pos- 
itively lovable !  It  is  ridiculous,  quite  ridiculous  of 
course,  that  I  should  find  him  so, — but  I  do  !  Yes, 
— positively  lovable !" 

And  he  laughed ; — his  laugh  never  by  any  means 
added  to  the  beauty  of  his  appearance,  but  on  this 
occasion  there  was  an  affectionate  twinkle  in  his 
filmy  eye  which  might  almost  be  called  handsome. 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

NIGHT  came,  calm  and  dewy.  There  was  no 
moon, — and  in  the  depths  of  the  purple  ether  the 
great  stars  ruled  supreme.  Jupiter  rose  in  all  his 
full  effulgence,  a  golden-helmeted  leader  among  the 
planet-gods  of  the  sky,  and  over  the  unruffled 
breast  of  the  dark  sea  Venus  hung  low  like  a 
pendant  jewel.  Afar  off  the  outline  of  the  land- 
scape was  blurred  and  indistinct,  softening  into  a 
fine  haze  that  presented  the  delicate  suggestion  of 
some  possible  fairyland  hidden  behind  the  last  dim 
range  of  the  wood-crowned  hills.  Through  the 
still  air  floated  a  wandering  scent  of  newly-stacked 
hay  and  crushed  sweet-briar ;  an  almost  impercep- 
tible touch  of  autumn  sobered  the  heavy  green 
foliage  of  the  trees  to  a  deeper  sombreness  of  hue, — 
while  over  all  things  reigned  a  curious  and  im- 
pressive silence,  as  though  the  million  whispering 
tongues  of  Nature  had  suddenly  been  checked  by 
the  command  of  that  greater  Voice  which  in  olden 
time  had  hushed  the  storm  with  its  calm  "  Peace ! 
Be  still !"  In  the  "  big  house," — for  so  the  residence 
temporarily  occupied  by  Mr.  Valliscourt  was  styled 
by  the  villagers  of  Combmartin, — there  was  an 

263 


264  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

equally  solemn  silence.  Every  one  was  asleep, — 
save  Lionel.  He,  broad  awake,  sat  on  the  edge  of 
his  little  bed,  with  bright  eyes  a-stare,  and  brain 
busily  at  work  and  every  pulse  and  nerve  in  his 
body  thrilling  with  excitement.  Never  had  he 
looked  so  young  as  now, — a  flush  of  colour  was  in 
his  cheeks  and  lips,  and  the  little  smile  that  played 
across  his  features  from  time  to  time  was,  if  some- 
what vague,  still  singularly  sweet  and  expressive  of 
pleasure.  He  had  gone  to  bed  at  the  usual  hour, — 
he  had  said  "  Good-night"  to  his  father  who  had 
been  reading  the  evening  paper  and  who  had 
merely  looked  over  the  edge  of  it  and  nodded  by 
way  of  response, — he  had  then  gone  to  Professor 
Cadman-Gore  who  was  poring  over  an  enormous 
quarto  volume  printed  in  black-letter,  and  who 
answered  absently — "  Good-night  ?  Yes — er — ah  ! 
of  course!  Certainly, — very  good,  indeed!  You 
are  going  to  bed, — exactly ! — that's  right !"  and 
so  murmuring,  had  pressed  his  little  hand  kindly, 
and  then  had  resumed  his  book-worm  burrowings. 
And  he  had  called  downstairs  to  housemaid  Lucy 
"  Good-night !"  a  thing  he  rarely  ever  did  ;  and  she 
had  replied  from  the  kitchen  depths,  "  Good-night, 
Master  Lionel !"  in  a  bright  tone  of  surprise  and 
pleasure  agreeable  to  hear.  And  then  he  had  reached 
his  bedroom, — but  he  had  not  undressed,  or  prepared 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  265 

for  bed  at  all,  or  laid  his  head  down  on  the  pillow  for 
a  moment.  Clad  in  the  navy-blue  jersey  suit  he  had 
worn  all  day,  he  only  slipped  off  his  shoes  in  order 
not  to  make  any  noise,  and  then  he  paced  softly  up 
and  down  his  room  thinking,  thinking  all  the  while. 
Such  a  whirl  of  thoughts,  too!  Thick  as  snowflakes 
and  as  dizzying  to  the  brain,  thoughts  seemed  to  rain 
upon  him,  fire-red  and  flame-white, — for  they  took 
strange  burning  colours  and  ran  in  strange  grooves. 
He  had  put  out  his  candle, — he  liked  the  sensation 
of  moving  to  and  fro  in  the  darkness,  as  then  he 
could  imagine  things.  For  instance,  he  could  imag- 
ine his  mother  was  with  him,  sitting  just  in  the  very 
chair  where  she  had  sat  when  she  rocked  him  in  her 
arms  and  called  him  her  "  baby," — and  so  strong 
was  the  delusion  he  excited  in  himself  that  he  actu- 
ally went  and  knelt  down  beside  her  visionary  figure 
and  said— 1'  Mother !  Mother,  darling,  I  love  you  ! 
I  shall  always  love  you  !"  and  then  had  laughed  a 
little  and  shuddered,  as  he  realised  that,  after  all,  it 
was  only  his  fancy, — that  she  was  gone, — gone  for 
ever  ! — and  that  he  was  quite  alone.  |  And  presently, 
retreating  to  the  window  and  looking  out  into  the 
starlit  night  he  thought  he  could  see  Jessamine 
standing  in  the  garden  below,  with  a  wreath  of  her 
own  flowers  round  her  hair  and  her  blue  eyes  up- 
turned to  him  where  he  watched  her, — yes !  he  could 

M  23 


266  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

even  hear  her  calling,  ..."  Lylie !  Lylie !  Come 
an'  play !"  And  he  almost  felt  inclined  to  open  the 
window  and  jump  down  to  that  little  shadow-figure 
on  the  dark  turf, — till  he  suddenly  bethought  him 
that  it  was  a  mistake, — Jessamine  was  dead, — her 
grave  was  ready, — she  was  going  to  be  put  down 
into  the  earth  and  hidden  away  from  the  sunshine, — 
she  would  never  call  him  any  more, — never  !  Hur- 
rying away  from  the  corner  whence  he  could  see  her 
so  plainly,  and  where  it  frightened  him  to  look  out  at 
her  lonely  little  ghost  in  the  garden,  he  climbed  up 
on  his  bed  and  sat  there,  swaying  his  feet  to  and  fro 
and  thinking,  still  thinking.  He  heard  his  father 
come  up  the  stairs  with  a  firm  and  heavy  tread, 
enter  his  bedroom,  and  shut  and  lock  the  door, — 
then  the  Professor  followed,  coughing  loudly  and 
shuffling  his  slippered  feet  along  the  landing  to  the 
apartment  he  occupied  at  the  very  end  of  the  corri- 
dor,— and  presently  the  old  "  grandfather's  clock"  in 
the  hall  below  chimed  eleven.  After  this  the  great 
silence  fell, — the  silence  that  was  so  mystically  sug- 
gestive of  undiscoverable  things. 

And  Lionel  listened,  as  it  were,  to  that  silence,  till 
he  grew  restless  under  its  spell.  Springing  off  his 
bed  he  lit  his  candle  in  haste  and  looked  nervously 
round  him  as  though  he  half  expected  to  see  some 
one  in  the  room, — then,  rallying  his  forces,  he  softly 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM,  267 

opened  a  large  cupboard  that  was  made  to  appear 
like  a  part  of  the  wall,  and  setting  a  chair  within  it, 
stood  thereon,  and  reached  his  hand  up  to  the  corner 
of  a  particular  shelf,  where,  snugly  secreted  in  the 
pocket  of  one  of  his  little  overcoats,  he  kept  the 
"  baby  sash"  his  mother  had  given  him  as  a  parting 
souvenir.  Taking  possession  of  this,  he  got  down 
from  the  chair,  put  it  back  in  its  place,  and  shut  the 
cupboard  carefully  again, — then  he  stood  still  for  a 
moment,  thinking.  After  a  little  while,  he  unfolded 
and  shook  out  the  sash  to  its  full  length,  and 
dreamily  admired  its  pretty  blue  colour  and  the 
graceful  design  of  the  daisy-chain  so  deftly  woven 
upon  it.  Re-folding  it  once  more,  he  slipped  it  inside 
his  vest, — then  putting  on  his  shoes  by  mere  force 
of  habit,  he  took  his  candlestick, — the  candle  in  it 
burning  steadily, — and  opening  his  bedroom  door 
listened  breathlessly.  There  was  not  a  sound  in  the 
house, — not  so  much  as  a  crack  of  wood  in  the  old 
Chippendale  press  that  stood  up,  gaunt  and  shadowy, 
on  the  outer  landing.  Swiftly  and  noiselessly,  hold- 
ing the  light  well  above  his  head  that  he  might  see 
clearly  and  not  stumble,  he  sped  downstairs  to  the 
school-room.  The  door  was  wide  open,  and  as  he 
went  in  and  pushed  it  to  after  him,  he  gave  a  sigh  of 
relief  and  satisfaction,  as  though  he  had  attained  at 
last  some  long-desired  goal  of  ambition.  There  was 


268  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

more  light  in  this  apartment  than  in  his  bedroom ; — 
there  were  no  trees  to  shadow  the  window,  and 
through  its  crossed  lattice-panes  the  stars  twinkled 
with  a  white  brilliance  not  unworthy  of  the  moon 
herself.  Setting  his  candle  on  the  table-desk  at 
which  he  had  worked  so  many  weary  hours  and 
days,  pondering  on  things  that  never  would  and 
never  could  be  of  any  use  to  any  one's  practical 
after-life,  Lionel  took  out  paper,  pen  and  ink,  and 
seating  himself,  proceeded  to  write  certain  words 
with  careful  slowness  and  most  business-like  pre- 
cision. Shaping  his  letters  roundly  and  neatly  he 
took  a  great  deal  of  pains  to  make  his  meaning  un- 
mistakably clear,  and  having  covered  one  sheet  of 
paper,  he  folded  it  in  four  with  mathematical  exacti- 
tude, addressed  it,  and  commenced  another.  When 
this  was  also  done,  he  folded  it  in  the  same  way  as 
the  first,  and  addressed  it  likewise, — then  he  put  the 
two  missives  together  on  the  table,  one  beside  the 
other,  and  looked  at  them  with  a  kind  of  naive  in- 
terest and  admiration.  Their  superscriptions  were 
turned  uppermost,  and  one  read  thus, — 

"  To  my  Father. 

John  Valliscourt>  Esq.,  Of  Valliscourt" 

The  other  was  more  simply  inscribed, — 
"  To  Professor  Cadman-Gore" 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  269 

For  some  minutes  he  studied  these  addresses 
minutely,  and  with  something  of  a  smile  on  his  face. 

"  It  is  just  as  if  I  were  going  to  run  away !" 
he  said,  half  aloud,  "  And  so  I  am !  That  is  exactly 
what  I  am  going  to  do.  I  am  going  to  run  away !" 
And  the  smile  deepened.  "  I  remember  what 
Willie  Montrose  told  me — '  rather  than  break  down 
altogether  you'd  better  show  a  clean  pair  of  heels.' 
And  that's  just  what  I'm  going  to  do.  By-the-bye, 
I  never  sent  poor  Willie  his  Homer." 

He  rose,  and  turning  towards  the  book-shelves, 
two  of  which  were  ranged  along  the  opposite  wall, 
soon  found  the  volume  and  packed  it  neatly  up  in 
readiness  for  posting,  addressing  it  in  a  large  clear 
hand  to  "W.  Montrose,  Esq.,  B.  A.  The  Nest. 
Kilmun,  Scotland."  Then  after  considering  awhile, 
he  sat  down  again  and  wrote  another  letter,  which 
ran  as  follows — 

DEAR  WILLIE, 

You  left  your  favourite  copy  of  Homer 
behind  when  you  said  good-bye  to  me.  I  meant 
to  have  sent  it  to  you  before,  but  somehow  it 
slipped  my  memory.  Now,  as  I  am  going  away, 
it  might  get  mislaid  among  my  father's  books,  so 
I  have  left  it  with  Professor  Cadman-Gore  (who  is  a 
very  nice  old  man)  all  ready  for  him  to  post  to 

23* 


270 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 


you.  Thank  you  for  all  your  kindness  to  me, — I 
have  never  forgotten  it,  and  I'm  almost  sure  I  shall 
never  forget.  You  needn't  be  anxious  about  me  any 
more, — I'm  all  right. 

Your  affectionate  and  grateful 

LIONEL. 

He  put  this  letter  in  an  envelope  which  he 
addressed  but  left  open,  and  wrote  a  slip  of  paper 
which  he  laid  above  it  and  the  Homer  volume 
together,  giving  the  following  instruction, — 

DEAR  PROFESSOR — Will  you  please  post  this  letter 
and  also  the  book  to  Mr.  Montrose  for  me.  It  is  his 
copy  of  Homer  which  he  left  with  me  by  mistake, 
and  he  is  sure  to  want  it. 

LIONEL. 

"  That's  done !"  he  said,  as  he  wiped  his  pen  and 
put  by  the  ink  and  paper  in  their  respective  places 
with  his  usual  methodical  neatness, — "  It's  no  use 
writing  to  mother, — if  I  did,  she  would  never  get 
the  letter." 

He  went  to  the  window  and  opened  it.  It  was  a 
glorious  night, — and  as  he  threw  back  the  lattice, 
the  sweet  air  flowed  in  laden  with  a  thousand  de- 
licious odours  from  the  forest  and  ocean.  So  deep 
was  the  stillness  that  he  could  barely  hear  the  vague 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  271 

murmur  of  small  waves  lapping  the  shore  now  and 
again,  though  the  sea  was  not  half  a  mile  distant. 
It  was  such  a  night  as  when  the  trustful  and  be- 
lieving heart  is  filled  like  a  holy  chalice  with  the 
rich  wine  of  joy  and  gratitude, — when  the  soul  rises 
to  an  angel's  stature  within  its  fleshly  tenement  and 
sings  "  Magnificat," — when  nature  wears  her  most 
serene  and  noble  aspect, — when  it  seems  good  to 
live,  good  to  work,  good  to  hope,  good  to  love, — 
good  to  be  even  the  smallest  portion  of  the  divine 
and  splendid  order  of  the  Universe.  But  to  the 
young  boy  who  stood  gazing  out  on  the  infinite 
majesty  of  the  moving  earth  and  heavens,  there  was 
no  order,  but  mere  chaos, — a  black  conflicting  con- 
tradiction of  forces, — a  non-reasoning  production  of 
things  that  neither  sought  nor  desired  existence,  and 
that  have  no  sooner  learned  to  love  life  than  they  are 
plunged  into  death  and  eternal  nothingness.  In  the 
"  Free-Thinker's  Catechism"  (Catechisrne  du  Libre- 
Penseur),  by  one  Edgar  Monteil, — a  code  of  ethics 
which  has  been  circulated  assiduously  among  chil- 
dren's schools  in  France  for  the  past  ten  years, — 
the  unhappy  little  beings  whose  ideas  of  morality 
are  engrafted  upon  this  atheistical  doctrine,  are 
taught  that  "  the  passions  of  man  are  his  surest  and 
most  faithful  guides,"  and  that  "  God  is  a  spectre  in- 
vented by  priests  to  frighten  timid  minds" — this,  too, 


272 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 


in  utter  and  wicked  oblivion  of  the  grand  truth  pro- 
claimed with  such  a  grand  simplicity — "  God  is 
Love."  "  As  the  soul,"  writes  the  self-deluded  com- 
piler of  the  "  Free-Thinker's  Catechism,"  "  no  longer 
constitutes  for  us  an  independent  and  imperishable 
individuality,  there  is  no  future  life."  And  what  are 
the  results  of  this  "  new"  confession  of  faith  ?  Too 
terrible  and  devastating  to  be  easily  gauged,  though 
something  of  their  danger  may  be  gathered  from 
the  discussions  of  the  Conseil  d?  Arrondissement  de 
Nantes,  the  members  of  which  declare  that — "  Con- 
sidering that  the  suicides  of  young  children  and  per- 
sons of  tender  age  (formerly  almost  unknown  among 
us)  have  multiplied  recently  to  such  a  degree  as  to 
reach  the  alarming  extent  of  443  cases  in  one  year" 
— and  furthermore — "  considering  the  deplorable  in- 
crease of  vice  and  crime  among  children  and  youths, 
— we  take  the  vow" — says  the  Council  with  almost 
passionate  solemnity — "that 'in  the  schools  of  this 
Arrondissement,  morality  shall  not  be  separated  from 
religion,  and  that  the  teaching  of  duty  towards  GOD 
shall  be  the  fundamental  and  necessary  base  of  all 
duties  which  are  incumbent  upon  man." 

Such  is  the  wise  decision  of  Nantes, — but  unhap- 
pily the  good  example  is  not  followed  throughout 
France  in  general.  In  almost  every  educational  de- 
partment the  principles  of  the  "  Libre-Penseur  "  are 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  273 

sowing  the  seeds  of  ruin  to  the  nation,  and  making 
of  the  average  human  being  a  creature  worse  than 
the  lowest  and  most  untamable  of  ferocious  beasts. 
And  these  principles,  largely  adopted  by  the  Free- 
Thinking  societies  in  England,  are  being  gradually 
disseminated  among  the  children  of  our  own  secular 
schools, — for  the  agents  or  "  missionaries"  of  Free- 
Thought  are  to  the  full  as  active  in  distributing  their 
tracts  and  pamphlets  as  the  most  fervid  Salvationist 
that  ever  tossed  the  "  War  Cry"  in  the  faces  of  the 
public, — more  stealthy  in  their  movements,  they  are 
none  the  less  cunning,  and  in  our  once  God-fearing 
country  many  can  now  be  found  who  passively  ac- 
cept as  truth  the  deadening  and  blasphemous  lie 
uttered  in  the  words — "  As  the  soul  no  longer  con- 
stitutes an  independent  and  imperishable  individu- 
ality, there  is  no  future  life."  And  yet,  in  sober 
earnest  this  "  independent  and  imperishable  individu- 
ality" is  more  self-assertive  than  ever  it  was, — it 
passionately  claims  to  be  heard  and  acknowledged, — 
it  clamours  with  all  its  immortal  strength  at  the 
barriers  of  the  Unknown,  crying  "  Open  ! — Open  ! 
Unveil  the  hidden  Glory  which  /  know  and  feel, 
yet  cannot  speak  of! — Open  ! — that  Doubt  may 
see,  and  seeing,  die  !"  For  the  Soul  in  each  one 
of  us  is  instinctively  aware  that  the  hidden  Glory 
exists,  though  it  cannot  explain  in  mortal  speech 


274  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

why,  whence,  or  how.  Nevertheless  the  Psyche 
feels  her  lover,  and  through  the  darkness  of  earth's 
perplexities  stretches  out  yearning  hands  to  grasp 
the  actual  Divine  which  Is,  and  which  reveals  itself 
to  mortals  in  a  thousand  subtle  tender  ways  of 
promise,  warning,  knowledge,  or  sweet  comfort. 
But  our  lamps  of  learning,  ill-trimmed  and  dull, 
cannot  shed  light  on  such  Eternal  Splendour, — 
they  needs  must  be  extinguished  in  the  greater 
radiance,  even  as  sparks  in  a  blaze  of  sunshine. 
Little  Lionel,  dimly  conscious  of  "  the  imperishable 
and  independent  individuality"  in  his  own  slight 
frame,  though  he  could  not  analyse  what  he  felt, 
gazed  straight  out  on  the  shining  planets,  which 
like  great  golden  eyes  regarded  him  as  straightly, 
and  thought  what  a  strange  thing  it  was  that  there 
should  be  millions  and  millions  of  worlds  in  the 
sky,  all  created  by  an  Atom,  for  Nothing!  If  he 
had  been  a  man,  grown  callous  and  cold-hearted 
through  the  sameness  of  life  as  generally  lived,  he 
might  possibly  have  found,  with  Edgar  Monteil, 
some  satisfaction  in  the  terrific  satire — "  The  pas- 
sions of  man  are  his  surest  and  most  faithful 
guides," — but  being  only  a  child  he  had  no  pas- 
sions save  an  endless  desire  to  know, — a  desire 
that  nothing  ever  written  by  all  the  atheists  in  the 
world  will  satisfy  or  restrain.  A  child's  first  in- 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  275 

quiries  concerning  spiritual  and  transcendent  things, 
need  noble  answers  evolved  from  purest  thought, — 
for,  as  the  Italian  proverb  has  it — "  The  '  why'  of  a 
child  is  the  key  of  philosophy."  Woe  betide  those 
who  crush  the  high  aspirations  of  innocent  and  hope- 
ful youth  by  the  deadening  blow  of  Materialism ! — 
worse  than  murderers  are  they,  and  as  a  greater 
crime  than  murder  shall  they  answer  for  it.  For 
truly  has  it  been  said — "  Fear  not  them  which  kill 
the  body,  but  fear  them  which  kill  the  soul."  Kill- 
ing the  soul  is  the  favourite  occupation  of  the  so- 
called  "  wise  men"  of  to-day, — spreading  their  per- 
nicious influence  through  the  press  and  through 
current  literature,  they  congratulate  themselves 
when  they  have  dragged  their  readers  down  into 
a  slough  of  pessimism  and  atheism,  and  caused 
them  to  think  of  God  as  the  supreme  Evil  instead 
of  the  supreme  Good.  Yet  every  anti-Christian 
author  nowadays  has  his  or  her  commendatory 
clique  and  salvo  of  applause  from  the  press,  and 
the  more  blasphemous,  vulgar,  and  obscene  the 
work,  the  louder  the  huzzas.  In  this  way,  things 
are  tending  fast  towards  the  attitude  of  the  "  Libre- 
Penseur,"  so  that  soon  when  the  children  ask  us 
"  Who  made  heaven  and  earth  ?"  we  shall  answer 
flippantly  according  to  that  Catechism — "  Neither  the 
heaven,  nor  infinity,  nor  the  earth  has  been  created." 


276  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

Question.     "  There  is  no  First  Cause  then  ?" 

Answer.  "  No, — for  all  that  we  cannot  prove 
scientifically  has  no  existence." 

And  here  was  the  boy  Lionel's  difficulty.  He 
was  actively  conscious  of  something  he  could  not 
"  prove  scientifically,"  and  it  was  impossible  for  him 
to  believe  that  that  something  "had  no  existence." 
For  IT, — that  undefinable  vague  Something, — to  him 
meant  Everything.  As  he  stood  at  the  open  window 
looking  at  the  stars,  the  impression  of  a  sudden  vast- 
ness,  an  all-sufficing  Goodness  and  Perfection  swept 
over  his  mind,  like  a  wave  rolling  in  upon  him  from 
the  Infinite,  giving  him  a  vague  yet  soothing  sense 
of  peace. 

"  It  is  beautiful !"  he  murmured — "  Beautiful  to 
think  that  in  a  very  little  while  I  shall  know  all, — 
why,  I  may  even  meet  Jessamine  the  very  first  thing ! 
— who  can  tell !  It  is  wrong,  I  daresay,  to  want  to 
find  out  so  quickly, — but  I  couldn't  bear  to  go  on 
and  on  every  day,  learning  a  lot  of  useless  things, 
and  always  missing  the  one  thing." 

He  turned  suddenly  and  looked  about  him.  The 
wan  star-beams  illumined  one  side  of  the  room  more 
than  the  other,  and  as  he  glanced  up  at  the  rough 
oak  rafters  that  crossed  the  ceiling,  he  easily  per- 
ceived, by  the  mingled  rays  of  starlight  and  flickering 
candle,  one  of  the  large  iron  hooks,  so  many  of  which 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  277 

were  embedded  in  the  old  wood,  and  apparently 
struck  by  its  position  he  went  and  looked  at  it  curi- 
ously. Then  he  got  up  on  a  chair  and  felt  it, — it 
was  as  firm  as  the  beam  itself.  He  smiled  dreamily, 
— and  his  thoughts  flew  back  to  beautiful  Clovelly, 
and  to  the  strange  tourist  who  had  been  found 
hanged  in  the  boat-house  there.  He  remembered 
the  words  of  the  old  boatman  who  had  explained 
the  deed  as,  "  nothin'  easier  when  ye've  got  a  neck- 
ercher  an'  a  nail."  And  then,  slowly  and  with  ex- 
treme tenderness,  he  drew  from  under  his  vest  his 
mother's  gift,  the  soft  glistening  "  baby  sash"  of 
daisy-sprinkled  ribbon,  and  shaking  it  out,  slipped 
one  end  dexterously  and  firmly  over  the  nail,  and 
arranged  the  other  in  a  "  running  noose," — the  art 
of  making  which,  together  with  other  knots  of  a 
like  kind,  had  been  taught  him  by  Montrose  in  many 
a  boating  and  sailing  expedition.  When  it  was  fixed 
to  his  satisfaction  he  got  off  the  chair  which,  how- 
ever, he  left  just  where  it  was  immediately  under  the 
nail  and  dangling  ribbon,  and  looking  round  once 
more,  blew  out  the  candle.  Alone  in  the  semi- 
darkness  he  now  stood,  his  wistful  gaze  turned  to- 
wards the  window  through  which  the  soft  air  shed 
fragrance  and  the  stars  flashed  their  luminant  splen- 
dours,— and  with  a  faint  sensation  of  giddiness  and 
fear  upon  him  he  advanced  a  few  steps  towards  that 

24 


278  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

open  square  of  sky,  and  suddenly  fell  on  his  knees. 
Clasping  his  hands  he  raised  his  pale  eager  wonder- 
ing little  face  to  the  great  planets  that  rolled  in  their 
mystic  orbits  far  above  him,  —  their  silver  rays 
gleamed  fitfully  on  his  fair  curls  and  glittered  in  his 
eyes  as  from  an  over-burdened  brain  and  breaking 
heart  he  prayed  aloud, — 

"  Almighty  Atom !  I  am  going  to  pray  to  you, 
though  I  have  never  said  any  prayers,  and  don't 
know  how  to  pray  rightly.  Perhaps  you  can't 
hear  me,  and  wouldn't  listen  if  you  could, — yet 
I  can't  help  thinking  there  is  Something  or 
Somebody  somewhere  to  whom  I  must  tell  just 
what  I  feel.  Oh,  dear  Atom ! — if  you  really 
know  or  care  anything  about  all  the  worlds  you 
have  made  and  the  poor  people  living  on  them, 
you  must  be  much  more  than  I  have  been  taught 
to  believe  you  are,  and  perhaps  you  will  be  able 
to  understand  what  I  mean.  I  am  coming  to  try 
and  find  you ; — and  if  you  should  be  after  all, 
not  an  Atom,  but  a  God, — a  good,  loving  God, — 
you  will  understand  me  still  better,  and  I'm  sure 
you  will  be  sorry  for  me.  Yes,  because  you  will 
see  it  is  not  all  my  fault  that  I  am  so  puzzled  and 
unhappy,  and  that  I  can't  help  wishing  to  know 
truly  if  there  is  not  something  better  than  this 
world,  where  we  can  never  keep  anything  we  love, 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  279 

and  where  everybody  dies  and  is  forgotten.  Oh, 
if  you  are  a  God,  you  will  pity  me, — and  I  shall 
not  be  afraid  of  you.  I  have  always  wanted  to 
believe  in  you  as  God,  and  if  they  would  have  let 
me  I  would  have  loved  you !  But  if  you  are  an 
Atom  only,  I  cannot  see  why  you  exist  at  all,  and 
I  think  some  one  must  have  made  even  you.  I 
must  find  out  that  Some  one, — and  if  I  have  a 
soul,  as  I  feel  I  have,  and  as  Reuben  Dale  says 
we  all  have,  then  I  shall  soon  discover  everything 
I  want  to  know.  And  if  you  are  a  God, — an 
eternal,  beautiful,  thinking,  feeling  Spirit-Person, 
whose  ways  are  all  wise  and  loving, — how  glad  I 
shall  be!  For  then  you  will  not  let  me  lose 
myself, — you  could  not  possibly  be  cruel  to  me, — 
and  you  will  take  me,  like  little  Jessamine,  straight 
to  the  world  you  live  in,  and  show  me  where  the 
angels  are.  I  shall  see  things  quite  clearly  and 
understand  what  they  all  mean, — and  if  I  have 
done  any  wrong  in  my  life,  I  think  you  will  forgive 
me, — I  hope  you  will,  because  you  will  know  I  was 
always  taught  not  to  believe  in  you." 

His  voice  trembled, — he  paused  a  moment, — then 
went  on  again,  softly, — 

"  Just  now, — though  I  can't  tell  why, — I  feel  that 
you  must  be  a  God  really  and  truly, — and  that  the 
men  who  write  books  to  try  and  prove  you  have  no 


280  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

existence,  except  as  a  figure  of  speech,  are  all  wrong. 
Poor  men  ! — I  wonder  how  they  will  feel  when  they 
come  to  die!  Will  you  forgive  them  for  all  the 
misery  they  make  ?  Because,  of  course,  there  must 
be  many  others  who  are  quite  as  unhappy  as  I  am, 
and  who,  when  they  are  in  trouble  about  anybody, 
as  I  am  about  my  mother,  or  when  they  lose  their 
little  children,  as  poor  Reuben  has  lost  Jessamine,  must 
think  it  very  hard  to  have  to  suffer  so  much,  without 
any  reason  for  it,  or  any  hope  of  comfort.  But  if  they 
felt  you  were  God  they  would  not  be  so  miserable, — 
they  would  be  like  Reuben,  who,  though  he  is  very 
sad,  believes  you  know  what  is  best,  and  that  you 
will  give  Jessamine  back  to  him  in  a  better  world. 
So  I  shall  pray  to  you  now  for  the  last  time  as  God, 
— and  not  as  Atom, — and  I  do  ask  you,  dear  God,  to 
be  kind  to  my  darling  mother.  Perhaps,  when  I 
come  to  you,  you  will  show  me  some  way  of  taking 
care  of  her.  If  I  deserved,  like  Jessamine,  to  be  an, 
angel,  I  could  always  be  near  her  and  watch  over 
her.  Will  you  think  of  this,  if  you  are  a  loving  God, 
as  many  people  say  you  are,  and  try  to  arrange  it 
for  me  ?  I  could  never  do  it  by  myself.  I  don't 
think  one  can  do  anything  by  one's  self  except  die. 
Out  there  in  the  heavens  I  am  looking  at,  there  are 
a  number  of  worlds  ever  so  much  larger  than  ours, 
with  people  on  them,  most  likely, — perhaps  they  are 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  281 

all  asking  you  about  themselves  just  as  I  am  doing. 
But  if  you  are  God  you  can  read  every  one's  thoughts, 
and  you  will  know  that  it  isn't  so  much  of  myself 
that  I'm  thinking,  as  of  every  thing  ever  made.  There 
is  such  a  great  deal  of  pain  and  suffering  everywhere, 
— and  I  couldn't  bear  to  see  it  going  on  always, — 
always, — without  feeling  sure  of  some  good  cause 
for  it  and  some  good  end  of  it.  And  these  things 
are  never  explained  clearly  to  me  by  my  father  or 
my  tutors, — perhaps  nobody  can  explain  them; land 
so  I  think,  before  I  make  any  more  serious  mistakes 
myself,  it's  better  to  come  straight  to  you,  and  ask 
you  to  clear  up  all  the  trouble  for  me.  I  am  only  a 
boy, — but  I  should  never  like  to  grow  up  a  man  if  I 
could  give  no  reason  for  being  one.  If  I  thought,  in 
truest  truth,  that  You  were  God,  I  could  easily 
understand  it  all, — but  I  have  studied  so  much  and 
am  so  puzzled  that  though  I  feel  you  are,  I  am  not 
sure.  So  I  must  find  out, — and  there's  no  other  way. 
Oh,  You,  whoever  You  are  that  made  all  the  stars 
and  suns,  and  all  the  mountains  and  seas,  and  all  the 
forests  and  birds  and  flowers,  I  am  coming  to  You ! 
If  nothing  You  have  created  is  ever  lost,  then  You 
will  not  lose  me,  nor  shall  I  lose  You !  I  shall  find 
You  wherever  You  are ! — This  world  frightens  me, 
— but  of  You  I  am  not  afraid  !" 

His  half-whispered  words  thrilled  the  silence  with 
24* 


282  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

strange  passion, — then  they  seemed  to  be  carried 
away,  as  it  were,  out  and  up  into  the  lofty  vastness 
of  the  heavens, — and  when  he  ceased,  the  great  hush 
of  the  night  deepened.  Still  on  his  knees,  with 
hands  upraised  and  clasped,  and  eyes  fixed  on  the 
glittering  stars,  he  thought  and  smiled,  and  smiled 
and  thought,  another  minute's  space. 

"  Shall  I  say  anything  else  ?"  he  mused — "  Yes ! 
— I  will  say  just  what  little  Jessamine  would  say  if 
she  were  here." 

And  the  dawning  angel-smile  rested  on  his  lips 
and  transfigured  his  small,  pale  features,  as  he  re- 
peated clearly,  steadily,  and  sweetly, — 

"  Gentle  Jesus,  meek  and  mild, 
Look  upon  a  little  child, 
Pity  my  simplicitie, 
And  suffer  me  to  come  to  Thee." 

Then,  with  one  more  look  at  the  starlit  sky  and 
the  solemn  beauty  of  the  sleeping  world,  he  rose 
quickly  from  his  kneeling  attitude  and  crept  stealthily 
across  the  room  to  the  spot  where  the  "baby  sash" 
hung  from  the  firm  iron  hook  in  the  oak  rafter, 
dangling  its  smooth  silky  length  over  the  chair  in 
position  below.  Pausing  here,  he  stared  fixedly 
upward  and  hesitated  a  moment, — then  went  to  the 
door  which  was  slightly  ajar,  and  with  careful  noise- 


THE  MIGHTY  A  TOM.  283 

lessness,  shut  it  fast,  locked  and  bolted  it.  Safe  now 
from  any  chance  of  interruption,  and  all  alone  except 
for  the  unseen  "  cloud  of  witnesses"  encompassing  us 
all,  this  mere  child,  nerved  to  sternest  resolution, 
calmly  confronted  the  vast  Infinite,  and  went  forth  on 
his  voyage  of  discovery  to  find  the  God  denied  him 
by  the  cruelty  and  arrogance  of  man.  And  not 
another  sound  disturbed  the  quietude  of  the  house, 
save  the  quick  dull  "  thud"  of  a  chair  overturned 
and  thrown  down.  After  that  came  a  heavy  still- 
ness, .  .  .  and  a  sudden  sense  of  cold  in  the  air  as 
of  the  swift  passing  of  the  Shadow  of  Death. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

A  GOLDEN  morning  dawned, — one  of  those  morn- 
ings peculiar  to  late  August  and  early  September, 
when  something  of  the  colour  of  ripe  harvest  seems 
transfused  into  the  light,  imparting  a  deeper  warmth 
and  mellowness  to  the  atmosphere  and  a  richer 
bloom  to  the  landscape.  The  sweep  of  the  gar- 
dener's scythe  mowing  the  dewy  grass,  hissed 
through  the  air,  every  stroke  sending  aloft  whiffs  of 
delicate  fragrance, — the  hum  of  bees  and  the  twit- 
tering of  birds  mingled  with  faint  echoes  of  laughter 
from  the  men  and  women  who  in  the  neighbouring 
fields  were  busy  tossing  the  hay, — and  a  sweet  light 
wind  blew  in  from  the  sea  bringing  health  and 
freshness  on  its  wings.  And  when  Mr.  Valliscourt 
went  down  to  breakfast  he  was  so  far  sensible  of  the 
invigorating  influences  of  such  a  morning,  that 
he  set  the  hall-door  wide  open  in  order  that  the 
house  should  obtain  the  full  advantage  of  the  tonic 
contained  in  the  revivifying  breeze,  which  he  himself 
inhaled  approvingly  as  though  he  were  for  once 
tolerably  satisfied  with  the  general  arrangements  of 
nature.  Refreshed,  he  turned  towards  the  breakfast- 
room,  where  on  the  threshold  he  was  confronted  by 
284 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  285 

housemaid  Lucy,  who,  trembling,  and  with  tears 
in  her  eyes,  nervously  faltered  out  that  "  Master 
Lionel's  bedroom  was  empty, — that  his  bed  had 
not  been  slept  in" — and  "  that  the  school-room 
door  was  locked."  And — "  Oh,  sir !"  she  con- 
tinued, beginning  to  sob  outright, — "  I'm  afraid 
something  has  happened  to  the  dear, — I  am,  really, 
sir ! — you  see  he  hasn't  been  well " 

"Who  hasn't  been  well?  What's  the  matter?" 
demanded  Professor  Cadman-Gore,  suddenly  ap- 
pearing on  the  scene. 

Mr.  Valliscourt  turned  to  him. 

"  It  appears  that  Lionel  is  not  in  his  bedroom," 
he  said,  his  hard  features  growing  livid,  and  his 
mouth  contracting  at  the  corners, — "  and  the  house- 
maid here  says  he  has  not  slept  in  his  bed  at  all.  I 
suppose," — and  his  eyes  narrowed  like  those  of 
a  snake  and  flashed  with  a  furtive  gleam  of  rage — 
"  I  suppose  he  has  followed  his  mother's  example 
and  run  away." 

And  the  words  of  his  wife's  parting  letter, — 
"  My  spirit  is  in  the  boy's  blood, — already  he 
rebels, — sooner  or  later  he  will  escape  you" — re- 
curred to  him  as  he  spoke,  working  within  his  mind 
a  paroxysm  of  silent  fury  that  for  the  moment  gave 
him  the  expression  of  a  fiend. 

"  Nonsense !"    retorted     the     Professor,    sharply. 


286  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

"He's  not  the  kind  of  boy  to  run  away, — he's  too 
sensible  and  tractable.  Perhaps  he  was  restless  and 
couldn't  sleep, — perhaps  he's  gone  out, — it's  a  fine 
day  and  there's  nothing  astonishing  in  his  taking  a 
ramble  before  breakfast." 

"  The  school-room  door  is  locked,  this  girl  tells 
me," — continued  Mr.  Valliscourt,  knitting  his  dark 
brows  into  a  frown, — then  abruptly  addressing  the 
frightened  Lucy,  he  asked, — "  On  the  inside  or  out- 
side ?  Is  the  key  gone  ?" 

"  No,  sir ;  the  key's  in  the  lock,  and  the  door's 
fastened  on  the  inside.  That's  what's  so  strange,  sir. 
I've  knocked  and  called,  but  it's  no  use, — and  sup- 
pose Master  Lionel  should  have  had  a  bad  faint  in 
there  all  by  himself! — oh  dear,  it  would  be  dreadful !" 
and  her  tears  flowed  unrestrainedly. 

"  Here,  get  out  of  the  way  !"  growled  the  Profes- 
sor, with  sudden  irritation — "  Let  me  go  and  see 
what's  the  meaning  of  all  this.  I  know  that  door, — 
the  lock  is  rickety  and  the  bolt  is  loose, — give  me  a 
hammer  or  anything  weighty, — I'll  soon  force  it 
open." 

He  strode  along  the  corridor,  Mr.  Valliscourt  fol- 
lowing him.  Lucy  ran  for  the  garden  hammer,  and 
soon  returned  with  it,  accompanied  by  the  gardener, 
bringing  other  useful  forcing  tools. 

"  Lionel !"  called  the  Professor. 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  287 

There  was  no  answer, — only  a  bird's  sweet  song 
that  came  floating  upwards  from  the  garden  through 
the  open  hall-door.  Smitten  with  a  sudden  vague 
sense  of  horror,  which  he  could  not  define,  Professor 
Cadman-Gore  looked  round  at  Mr.  Valliscourt. 

"  Hadn't  you  better  go  away,  Valliscourt  ?"  he 
said,  in  a  low  tone, — "  In  case  anything  has  happened 
to  the  boy " 

Mr.  Valliscourt  stood  immovable.  His  face  was 
pale,  but  he  forced  a  smile. 

"  There's  no  occasion  for  any  alarm" — he  answered 
— "  It's  a  mere  trick, — a  runaway  plot.  He  is  the 
son  of  his  mother,  and  I  daresay  is  not  deficient  in 
cunning.  He  has,  no  doubt,  locked  the  door  on  the 
inside  to  mislead  us  and  has  escaped  through  the 
window.  Nothing  more  likely." 

» 

The  Professor  made  no  reply,  but  with  the  aid 
of  the  gardener,  set  to  work  forcing  the  lock.  It 
was,  as  he  had  said,  an  old  lock,  and  was  soon 
pushed  back,  while  with  the  strong  impetus  applied 
the  bolt  likewise  gave  way,  and  the  door  burst  open. 
Then  ...  a  loud  scream  from  Lucy  .  .  .  and  .  .  . 

"  My  God !  My  God !"  cried  the  Professor,  wildly 
invoking  the  Deity  whose  existence  he  denied — 
"  Valliscourt — go — go  !  Don't  look, — don't  look ! 
The  boy  has  killed  himself!" 

But    Mr.  Valliscourt  pushed   past   him  into   the 


288  THE  MIGHTY  A  TOM. 

room,  and  there  stood,  .  .  .  rigid  and  dumb,  .  .  . 
staring,  .  .  .  staring  upward  at  a  strange  and  awful 
thing, — a  piteous  sight  to  make  God's  angels  weep, 
...  a  child-suicide  !  A  child's  dead  body  swinging 
heavily  from  the  oaken  rafters, — a  child,  hung  by  a 
length  of  soft  blue  sash-ribbon,  which  though  shining 
with  tender  hues  in  the  morning  sunlight,  and 
daintily  patterned  with  an  innocent  daisy-chain,  yet 
held  the  little  throat  fast  in  an  inexorable  death-grip  ! 
Was  that  child  his  son?  His  son? — for  whose 
future  he  had  planned  many  a  proud  scheme  of 
worldly  ambition  ? — and  on  whose  behalf  he  had  re- 
solved to  exert  all  the  tyrannical  and  petty  despotism 
of  which  an  arrogant  father  is  capable,  in  order  to 
force  his  intellect  on  in  advance  of  his  age,  and 
make  of  him  a  prodigy,  not  for  the  boy's  sake,  but 
for  his  own  self-glorification  ?  His  son  ?  That 
small  dead  thing  hanging  there !  .  .  .  And  his  wife's 
voice  seemed  to  whisper  in  his  ears — "  My  spirit  is 
in  the  boy's  blood, — sooner  or  later  he  will  escape 
you !"  .  .  .  It  was  true, — he  had  escaped  ! 

As  in  a  dull  dream  he  heard  Lucy's  hysterical 
sobbing, — unmoved  himself,  he  watched  the  Pro- 
fessor and  the  gardener  between  them  unloose  the 
silken  sash  of  self-execution,  take  tender  hold  of  the 
little  corpse,  and  lay  it  gently  down  on  the  ground, 
— then,  with  great  blinding  tears  in  his  old  eyes,  the 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  289 

Professor  felt  the  young  heart  that  had  long  ceased 
to  beat,  and  held  a  small  mirror  to  the  cold  closed 
lips  to  see  if  the  faintest  breath  clouded  its  surface. 
In  vain, — in  vain  !  Lionel's  "  happy  dispatch"  had 
been  made  with  a  sureness  and  a  resolution  worthy 
of  the  most  antique  Roman, — he  had  plunged  into 
the  Great  Mystery,  and  for  him  there  was  no  re- 
call. 

"  My  God !"  groaned  the  Professor  again  in  utter 
despair — "  That  it  should  have  come  to  this  !  Poor 
little  fellow  !  Poor  little  fellow  !" 

Then  Mr.  Valliscourt  spoke, — stiffly,  and  enunci- 
ating his  words  with  difficulty. 

"  Is  he — quite — dead  ?" 

"Quite!  It's  horrible! — it's  sickening!  Lucy, 
don't  cry  so  much,  there's  a  good  young  woman, — 
you  unnerve  me, — just  help  me  to  lay  him  here, — 
yes — on  this  sofa, — there,  that  will  do.  God  !  what 
an  appalling  tragedy !  A  mere  child ! — to  think 
of  it !  It  is  hideous — monstrous !  .  .  .  Valliscourt, 
I  am  grieved  to  the  heart  for  you, — he  was  a  noble 
little  fellow  .  .  ." 

Here  the  Professor  was  fain  to  turn  away  and 
hide  his  face, — while  Lucy,  weeping  bitterly,  bent 
over  the  little  corpse,  smoothed  the  fair  curls,  and 
folded  the  small  hands  cross-wise  on  the  breast, 
sobbing  more  than  ever  as  she  noticed  the  grave 
N  /  25 


290  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

peace  of  the  closed  eyelids,  the  sweet  smile  on  the 
lips,  and  the  solemn  air  of  infinite  knowledge  that 
hallowed  and  tranquillised  the  fine  waxen-white 
features  of  the  dead  boy. 

"  Temporary  insanity,  of  course,"  said  Mr.  Vallis- 
court,  presently,  speaking  in  a  strange,  dull  mono- 
tone,— "  It  occasionally  breaks  out, — even  in  chil- 
dren." 

He  paused.  All  this  time  he  had  not  moved  a 
step  nearer  to  the  corpse, — he  had  an  instinctive 
horror  of  it.  He  found  himself  wishing  that  it 
could  be  carried  out  of  the  house  at  once  and 
covered  up,  so  that  he  might  never  see  it  again, 
for  then  he  thought  it  would  be  easier  to  summon 
up  the  principles  of  his  materialistic  philosophy 
and  discuss  this — this  unfortunate  incident — calmly. 
But  with  that  small,  frozen,  patient  image  of  death 
confronting  him,  he  felt  cold,  and  at  the  same  time 
wrathful, — why  was  it,  how  was  it,  that  his  will  was 
always  thwarted,  and  his  plans  interfered  with  ?  His 
will !  God's  will  concerned  him  not  at  all. 

"  There  are  two  letters  here,"  he  said,  suddenly, 
calling  Professor  Cadman-Gore's  attention  to  the 
carefully  folded  and  neatly  addressed  papers  on  the 
desk, — "  One  for  you, — and — and  one  for  me." 

He  hesitated, — and  stole  a  furtive  glance  at  his 
dead  son,  as  he  opsned  the  missive  addressed  to 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 


291 


himself.  Would  the  boy  accuse  him  of  having 
driven  him  to  suicide  by  overwork  and  worry  ?  .  .  . 
There  were  no  reproaches  of  the  kind  contained  in 
the  letter, — it  was  very  simple,  and  ran  thus — 

MY  DEAR  FATHER, 

I  have  often  heard  you  say  that  when  one 
is  dead  and  done  for,  it  doesn't  matter  what  becomes 
of  one's  body,  whether  it  is  buried,  or  burnt  or 
thrown  into  the  sea — so  now  that  I  am  dead,  I 
hope  you  will  please  have  my  body  buried  in 
Combmartin  churchyard.  The  sexton  there,  Mr. 
Reuben  Dale,  digs  graves  very  well,  and  I  want  him 
to  dig  mine  by  the  side  of  the  one  he  has  made 
for  his  little  girl,  Jessamine.  I  played  with  Jessa- 
mine one  day,  and  liked  her  very  much.  Now 
she  is  dead,  and  so  am  I, — and  it  can't  make  any 
difference  to  you  that  I  am  buried  beside  her, 
because  dead  people  are  of  no  account  anyway. 
They  are  soon  forgotten,  and  you'll  soon  forget 
me.  I  couldn't  go  on  living, — I  was  so  tired. 
I  should  like  the  ribbon  you  will  find  round  my 
neck  buried  with  me,  please, — and  if  you  could 
ever  possibly  do  it,  I  should  be  glad  if  you  would 
give  my  mother  my  love. 

Your  son, 

LIONEL  VALLISCOURT. 


292 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 


Meanwhile  the  Professor,  with  much  coughing  and 
wiping  of  his  spectacles,  perused  his  own  letter,  which 
was  a  good  deal  longer  than  the  above,  and  which 
was  written  by  the  little  dead  lad  in  such  a  strain  of 
gentle  and  appealing  confidence  as  touched  the  book- 
worn  scholar  to  the  quick,  and  made  havoc  of  all  his 
learned  and  logical  equanimity. 

DEAR  PROFESSOR, 

I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you  for  getting 
to  be  so  kind  to  me,  because  I  know  you  didn't  like 
me  at  first, — and  I  hope  you  won't  think  very  badly 
of  me  because  I  have  given  up  the  idea  of  trying  to 
live.  You  see  I  should  have  to  study  very  hard  for 
years  and  years  before  I  could  be  at  all  as  clever  as 
you  would  want  me  to  be, — and  I  feel  it  wouldn't  be 
any  use  to  go  on  learning  and  learning,  unless  I  knew 
what  it  was  all  for.  It  would  seem  to  me  only  a 
waste  of  time.  Because  of  course  the  principal 
thing  one  wants  to  know  is  about  the  Atom, — or 
God, — and  even  you  can't  explain  this.  If  it  were 
explained,  then  there  would  be  some  reason  for  try- 
ing to  be  wise  and  good,  but  without  an  explanation, 
I  don't  see  that  anything  matters  really, — one  may 
just  as  well  be  stupid  as  clever.  All  this  has  been 
very  much  on  my  mind, — and  when  I  found  my 
mother  had  gone  away,  and  then  that  little  Jessa- 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 


293 


mine  Dale  whom  I  left  quite  well,  had  died  while 
we  were  at  Clovelly,  everything  seemed  so  strange 
and  cruel,  that  I  made  up  my  mind  to  find  out  for 
myself  what  reason  God — or  the  Atom — has  to 
give  for  making  people  so  miserable.  I  believe,  you 
know,  that  it's  not  an  Atom  really,  but  God, — and  I 
shall  ask  Him  all  about  things  as  soon  as  I  find  Him. 
I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  I  found  Him  to-night, — 
He  seems  quite  near  to  me  even  now.  You  will 
always  remember  our  pleasant  days  at  Clovelly, 
won't  you  ? — and  how  you  told  me  about  Psyche 
and  Eros.  I  think  that  was  a  very  beautiful  story. 
I've  been  trying,  as  Psyche  did,  to  see  with  my  little 
light, — but  I've  got  it  into  my  head  that  if  I  put  out 
my  lamp  altogether  I  shall  see  much  better.  God 
must  be  far  too  splendid  to  need  any  lamps  to  look 
at  Him.  You  know,  dear  Professor,  in  all  the 
learned  books  I  have  been  studying  with  you,  how 
each  person  contradicts  the  other,  and  how  difficult 
it  is  to  make  out  what  they  all  mean.  One  says  one 
thing, — and  then  another  man  declares  the  first  man 
to  be  all  wrong.  So  it  is  just  like  what  you  once 
said  about  the  waste  of  time  it  was  to  read  the 
newspapers,  because  on  one  morning  you  get  a 
piece  of  news  by  telegram  and  you  think  it  is  true, 
and  the  next  day  it  is  contradicted  and  proved  to  be 
a  false  report.  One  might  go  on  for  ever  bothering 

25* 


294  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

one's  self  and  getting  puzzled  in  this  silly  way,  and 
never  be  any  nearer  to  the  real  Cause  of  it  all, — the 
God  I  am  going  to.  I  do  indeed  think  it  is  God, — 
and  I  hope  you  will  consider  everything  carefully 
over  again  before  you  quite  make  up  your  mind  it  is 
an  Atom.  You  see,  you  are  not  quite  sure ; — and 
you  know,  if  it  is  God,  and  He  lives  in  a  great  and 
splendid  world  of  His  own,  and  we  have  souls  which 
all  fly  to  Him  like  angels  when  we  die,  I  might  meet 
you  again,  and  I  should  be  very  glad  of  that.  I 
didn't  like  you  at  first  any  more  than  you  liked  me, 
but  I  grew  quite  fond  of  you  at  Clovelly,  and  I  was 
going  to  ask  my  father  to  let  me  go  and  live  with 
you  while  I  went  on  studying, — but  when  I  found 
poor  little  Jessamine  dead,  somehow  everything 
changed.  I  told  you  she  was  quite  a  baby-girl,  and 
I  only  saw  her  twice, — but  I  liked  her  very  much, 
and  I  couldn't  understand  why  such  a  dear  little 
thing  should  have  to  die.  And  so  I  determined  I 
would  find  out, — and  I  shall  find  it  out,  I'm  sure. 
Good-bye,  now.  I  think  it  would  be  better  for  boys 
like  me'if  you  could  teach  them  that  the  First  Cause 
was  God,  and  that  He  loved  everybody,  and  meant 
to  explain  the  universe  to  us  some  day, — things 
would  be  so  much  easier  for  us,  and  life  would  be  so 
much  happier.  Of  course  you  will  have  to  think  it 
out  again,  before  you  decide,  you  being  so  clever, — 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  295 

but  please,  for  my  sake,  do  consider  it  whenever  you 
have  another  boy  to  teach. 

Thanking  you  for  all  your  kindness,  I  am, 
Your  grateful  pupil, 

LIONEL  VALLISCOURT. 

This,  and  the  slip  which  confided  Montrose's 
copy  of  Homer  and  the  letter  accompanying  it  to 
his  care,  was  the  Professor's  "  legacy," — and  to  his 
honour  be  it  said  that  he  was  not  ashamed  of  the 
tears  that  fell  down  his  furrowed  cheeks,  as  he  read 
the  quaint  confession  of  a  thinking  child's  mind — 
bewilderment  so  plaintively  expressed.  Wiping  his 
eyes  undisguisedly  with  his  large  yellow  silk  hand- 
kerchief, he  turned  and  looked  at  Mr.  Valliscourt, 
who  during  the  past  few  minutes  had  stood  stiffly 
erect  with  folded  arms,  staring  hard  at  his  dead  son. 
Becoming  conscious  now  of  the  Professor's  com- 
passionate gaze,  he  moved  restlessly, — then  spoke 
in  slowly  measured  tones, — 

"  It  is  very  curious,  is  it  not,  how  resemblances 
come  out  in  death  !"  he  said — "  This  boy  has  noth- 
ing of  me  in  his  looks, — he  is  the  image  of  his 
mother.  She  was  always  erratic, — he,  by  natural 
sequence,  has  proved  himself  insane.  She  revelled 
in  common  things, — music-hall  songs  and  dances 
and  the  like, — he,  in  his  last  words,  can  find  nothing 


296  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

better  to  ask  of  me  than  to  be  buried  by  a  common 
village  child  with  whom  it  appears  he  associated 
during  one  day's  truancy  from  home, — the  daughter 
of  the  sexton  here.  Of  course  I  shall  pay  no 
attention  to  such  a  foolish  request;  he  must  be 
buried  at  Valliscourt,  as  is  customary  with  all  the 
members  of  my  family." 

Whereupon  Professor  Cadman-Gore  suddenly  gave 
way  to  an  unexpected  outburst  of  passionate  indig- 
nation. 

"  By  Heaven,  Valliscourt,  you  have  no  more  heart 
than  a  stone !"  he  cried — "  Can  you,  in  the  very 
presence  of  your  dead  child,  self-slain,  refuse  or 
think  of  refusing  his  poor  little  last  wish  ?  What 
matter  is  it  to  you  where  or  how  he  is  buried  ?  In 
life  he  has  never  asked  a  single  favour  at  your  hands, 
— he  has  obeyed  you  in  your  most  trifling  caprices, 
— he  has  worked  himself  to  death  to  please  you, 
and  even  I, — I  who  have  promoted,  more  than  any 
one  in  England,  the  severe  training  and  discipline 
of  boys,  have  hesitated  to  carry  out  all  your  injunc- 
tions with  regard  to  his  education,  considering  them 
too  despotic  for  a  lad  so  sensitively  organised.  The 
doctor  here, — Dr.  Hartley, — privately  assured  me 
before  we  went  to  Clovelly  that  the  boy  was  being 
killed  by  overwork,  and  warned  me  to  be  careful  of 
him.  I  was  careful  of  him, — and  he  was  better  for 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  297 

complete  change  and  rest, — but  he  was  still  in  a 
doubtful  condition  of  health,  and  the  sudden  shock 
of  hearing  of  the  death  of  a  little  child  whom  he 
had  left  alive  and  well,  was  evidently  too  much  for 
the  delicate  balance  of  his  brain.  His  end, — his 
horrible  and  unnatural  end, — is  due  to  overpressure, 
of  that  I  am  convinced.  But  his  last  wishes  shall 
be  fulfilled,  or  else" — here  the  Professor  advanced 
a  step  or  two,  looking  singularly  ugly  and  impressive 
at  the  same  moment,  while  he  managed  to  impart 
to  his  voice  a  very  disagreeable  hissing  quality, — 
"  or  else ! — well,  you  know  me, — and  you  know  I 
can  write  with  some  eloquence,  when  I  choose ! 
Moreover  people  are  in  the  habit  of  listening  to 
what  I  say.  And  I  will  tell  the  whole  story  of  this 
distinctly  murdered  boy, — murdered  by  over-cram- 
ming,— to  the  newspapers,  for  it  is  a  case  of  over- 
cramming  in  which  you  have  had  by  far  the  greatest 
and  the  cruellest  share.  There's  not  a  tutor  alive 
who  would  not  have  pitied  such  a  child  as  he  was ! 
— left  to  his  own  thoughts,  without  sympathy  from 
either  father  or  mother,  and  deprived  of  youthful 
companionship, — /  pitied  him  from  my  soul,  and 
meant  to  give  him  all  the  relaxation  possible. 
Mind ! — when  I  say  I  will  make  the  whole  story 
public,  I  mean  it! — I  will  cloud  your  name  with 
reproach  and  opprobrium  and  furnish  an  excellent 


298  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

reason  to  society  for  your  wife's  desertion  of 
you !" 

Mr.  Valliscourt  grew  white  to  the  lips, — he 
breathed  quickly  as  though  he  had  been  running  a 
race,  and  for  the  moment  he  seemed  to  shrink  and 
cower  beneath  the  angry  glance  and  fierce  attitude 
of  the  irate  Professor ; — then,  with  a  slight  shrug  of 
his  shoulders,  he  said,  composedly, — 

"  I  am  surprised, — really  surprised, — to  hear  such 
violent  language  from  you,  Professor !  Pray  do  not 
excite  yourself!  You  have  been  very  kind  and  pa- 
tient with  .  .  .  with  my  son, — and  if  it  is  at  all  a 
matter  of  importance  and  obligation  to  you  that  his 
last  wishes  should  be  complied  with,  I  really  have  no 
very  serious  objection  to  carrying  them  out, — the 
more  especially  as  they  help  to  prove  his  utterly  un- 
sound state  of  mind.  No  well-born  boy  in  such  a 
station  of  life  as  that  occupied  by  my  son,  would 
wish  to  be  buried  beside  a  common  peasant,  if  he 
were  not  insane.  Your  accusation  of  '  over-cram- 
ming' is  quite  ridiculous, — excuse  me  for  saying  so  ! 
— it  is  impossible  to  over-cram  a  really  strong  brain, 
— and  the  younger  the  brain,  the  more  vivid  and 
lasting  the  impressions  of  knowledge.  I  naturally 
supposed  my  son's  brain  was  of  a  healthy  and  vig- 
orous quality,  and  it  is  a  decided  shock  to  me  to  find 
I  was  mistaken.  This  affair  will  cause  a  great  deal 


THE  MIGHTY  A  TOM. 


299 


of  talk  and  trouble, — I  think  I  had  better  call  on  Dr. 
Hartley,  and  place  matters  in  his  hands  for  speedy 
arrangement.  There  will  have  to  be  an  inquest,  of 
course, — and  these  things  are  excessively  tiresome." 

The  Professor  gazed  at  him  reproachfully. 

"  Valliscourt,"  he  said,  "  you  never  loved  your  son. 
You  could  not  have  loved  him,  or  you  would  not 
speak  as  you  do  now,  in  his  dead  presence !" 

And  he  pointed  to  the  couch  where  lay  the  pas- 
sive little  form,  lulled  into  that  perfect  rest  which  no 
clash  of  tongues  in  wordy  argument  should  ever 
again  disturb. 

Mr.  Valliscourt's  glance  followed  his  gesture,  but 
not  a  quiver  of  emotion  moved  the  composed  cold- 
ness of  his  features. 

"  Love  is  a  mere  figure  of  speech,"  he  said — 
"  And  it  only  applies  to  the  temporary  attraction  we 
feel  for  a  woman  or  women.  No  reasonable  father 
'  loves '  his  children, — his  sole  business  is  to  look 
upon  them  as  the  results  of  the  natural  law  of  the 
reproduction  of  species,  and  as  future  citizens  of  the 
world,  whom  he  is  bound  to  train  befittingly  for 
their  calling.  Sentiment  should  have  no  share  in 
their  education, — that,  I  believe,  is  your  principle,  or 
used  to  be, — it  is  certainly  mine.  I  expected  great 
things  of  my  son, — but  I  see  now  how  much  I  should 
have  been  disappointed  in  him.  His  brain  was 


300  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

weak,  possibly  diseased, — and  as  a  consequence  of 
weakness  or  disease  he  has  killed  himself.  It  is  very 
distressing,  of  course, — but  no  doubt,  as  time  wears 
on,  I  shall  realise  that  it  was  the  very  best  thing  he 
could  have  done.  I  think  I  had  better  go  at  once  to 
Dr.  Hartley." 

He  left  the  room  with  a  firm,  easy  step  and  un- 
ruffled demeanour, — the  materialistic  "  Positivist " 
asserting  itself  in  every  line  of  his  stiff  figure  as  he 
went.  And  Professor  Cadman-Gore,  the  "  oracle  " 
of  Universities,  left  alone  with  the  Head  Lionel,  rev- 
erently approached  the  piteous  little  corpse,  and 
there  lost  sight  of  himself  and  his  various  "  theories" 
in  sorrowful  contemplation.  Studying  the  quiet, 
fair  child-face  intently,  he  murmured, — 

"  The  best  thing  you  could  have  done !  Well ! — 
perhaps  it  is,  poor  boy  ! — perhaps  it  is  !  With  such 
a  father, — and  such  a  mother, — aye,  and  such  a 
F teacher,  too! — for  who  knows  whether  I  may  not 
have  done  him  harm  ?  Who  can  tell  whether  I  am 
right  or  wrong  in  my  ideas  of  Deity  ?  Can  there  be 
nothing  higher  than  humanity? — the  Valliscourt 
humanity,  for  instance  ?  Heaven  help  us  if  that  is 
all !" 

And  then — considering  that  he  was  a  learned 
pundit,  supposed  to  be  altogether  devoid  of  senti- 
ment— he  did  a  strange  thing.  Raising  the  dead 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  301 

boy  in  his  arms,  he  kissed  the  cold  brow  just  beneath 
the  clustering  curls,  and  said, — 

"  Yes  ! — I  will  consider  it,  Lionel !  I  promise,  for 
your  sake,  that  when  I  have  another  boy  to  teach,  I 
will  consider  whether  it  is  not  best  and  wisest  to  lead 
him  up  as  far  as  a  God  of  Love ! — and  leave  him 
there." 


26 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

ALL  the  little  world  of  Combmartin  turned  out 
to  attend  Lionel's  funeral.  His  brief  but  tragic  life- 
history, — his  sorrow  for  his  mother, — his  despair  at 
the  death  of  his  one  day's  playmate,  little  Jessamine 
Dale, — and  his  determined  suicide,  were  quickly 
rumoured  through  the  village ;  and  the  sympathetic 
"  touch  of  nature  which  makes  the  whole  world  kin," 
communicated  itself  from  house  to  house,  and  from 
heart  to  heart,  till  every  man,  woman,  and  child  in 
the  place  was  moved  by  genuine  pity  and  grief  for 
the  little  fellow's  untimely  end.  The  verdict  on  his 
death  was  the  usual  one,  "  Suicide  during  temporary 
insanity," — this  judgment  being  always  passed  out 
of  purest  Christian  charity  in  order  to  allow  the  so 
desperately  departed  the  rites  of  Christian  burial. 
Dr.  Hartley,  who  was  present  at  the  inquest,  had  no 
hesitation  in  asserting  that  he  considered  the  boy 
had  been  driven  to  his  rash  act  by  over-study,  which 
had  caused  extreme  pressure  on  the  brain, — and  Pro- 
fessor Cadman-Gore  manfully  supported  the  state- 
ment, thus  voluntarily  taking  a  certain  share  of  the 
blame  on  his  own  shoulders.  Though,  had  the 
old  scholar  spoken  all  his  mind,  he  would  have 
302 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 


3°3 


added,  that  in  his  opinion,  it  was  the  nature  of 
the  education  insisted  upon, — namely,  scientific 
positivism  and  lack  of  all  religious  training, — which 
was  the  real  cause  of  the  wreckage  of  the  boy's 
young  life.  But  he  said  nothing  of  this,  though 
it  may  be  he  thought  the  more.  And  the  morning 
came  at  last,  when  Reuben  Dale,  looking  older  by 
ten  years,  leaned  on  his  spade  by  the  little  grave 
he  had  newly  dug,  next  to  that  of  his  own 
beloved  child,  and  watched  the  reverent  crowd 
of  his  fellow-villagers  as  they  gathered  with  hushed 
footsteps  in  the  quiet  old  churchyard  and  listened 
with  tearful  attention  to  the  aged,  white-haired 
parson  who  had  known  most  of  them  all  their 
lives,  and  whose  clear  voice,  now  and  then  faltering 
with  emotion,  pronounced  the  beautiful,  triumphant 
words, — 

"So  also  is  the  resurrection  of  the  dead.  It  is 
sown  in  corruption;  it  is  raised  in  incorruption, — 
it  is  sown  in  dishonour,  it  is  raised  in  glory, — it 
is  sown  in  weakness,  it  is  raised  in  power, — it  is 
sown  a  natural  body,  it  is  raised  a  spiritual  body 
....  So  when  this  corruptible  shall  have  put 
on  incorruption  and  this  mortal  shall  have  put 
on  immortality,  then  shall  be  brought  to  pass  the 
saying  that  is  written, — O  Death,  where  is  thy 
sting  ?  O  Grave,  where  is  thy  victory  ?" 


304  THE  MIGHTY  A  TOM. 

With  bent  head  and  softened  features,  Professor 
Cadman-Gore  listened,  looking  down  into  the  square 
of  earth  wherein  Lionel's  little  coffin  had  been 
lowered,  covered  with  flowers,  the  free-will  offerings 
of  the  tender-hearted  village  women.  A  large 
wreath  of  honeysuckle  from  good  Miss  Payne  was 
one  of  the  most  conspicuous  and  beautiful  of  the 
various  garlands,  she  having  stripped  her  entire 
cottage-porch  of  blossom  for  this  purpose, — but 
even  the  poor  afflicted  "  Hoddy-Doddy "  had 
brought  a  funeral  token  in  the  shape  of  a  long 
branch  of  rare  white  roses  fit  for  the  adornment  of  a 
queen's  bower, — and  Reuben  Dale  had  dropped 
into  the  grave  a  single  knot  of  jessamine,  the 
smallest  tribute  of  all,  yet  perhaps  the  sweetest 
and  most  significant.  And  the  Professor  was 
troubled  by  a  rising  lump  in  his  throat  and  a 
great  mist  before  his  eyes  as  he  heard,  amid  sup- 
pressed sobs  from  the  little  crowd,  the  parson's 
tremulous  accents,  saying, — 

"  Forasmuch  as  it  hath  pleased  Almighty  God  to 
take  unto  Himself  the  soul  of  our  dear  young 
brother  departed" — and  the  compassionate  speaker 
hesitated  as  he  put  in  with  soft  emphasis  the  word 
"  young," — "  we  therefore  commit  his  body  to  the 
ground, — earth  to  earth,  ashes  to  ashes,  dust  to 
dust, — in  sure  and  certain  hope  of  the  resurrec- 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  305 

tion  to  eternal  life  through  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
who  shall  change  our  vile  body  that  it  may  be 
like  unto  His  glorious  body,  according  to  the  mighty 
working,  whereby  He  is  able  to  subdue  all  things  to 
Himself." 

Mr.  Valliscourt  listened  with  a  frown  of  contempt 
on  his  features  and  anger  in  his  heart.  "  The 
mighty  working,  whereby  He  is  able  to  subdue 
all  things  to  Himself!"  He  resented  this  phrase, — r 
it  affronted  him  singularly.  And  he  hated  the 
situation  in  which  he  found  himself,  namely,  that 
of.  being  compelled  to  give  over  the  dead  body 
of  his  son  at  last  to  the  rites  of  the  Creed  he 
abhorred.  When  at  the  "  Our  Father"  every  one 
knelt  down  on  the  warm  daisy-sprinkled  turf, 
he  stood  proudly  erect,  glancing  disdainfully  at  the 
Professor,  who,  though  too  stiff  in  the  joints  to 
kneel,  nevertheless  bowed  his  head  out  of  respect 
for  the  sacredness  of  the  ceremony.  The  service 
ended,  the  venerable  clergyman  dismissed  all  present 
with  the  usual  blessing,  pronounced  with  more  than 
usual  fervency,  and  went  his  gentle  tottering  way 
with  his  assistants,  leaving  Reuben  Dale  to  his 
appointed  work  of  filling  in  the  newly-made  grave. 
The  villagers  moved  away  noiselessly,  some  crying 
in  company  with  Clarinda  Payne,  others  endeavour- 
ing to  comfort  the  girl  Lucy,  who  wept  as  though 
u  26* 


306  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

her  heart  would  break,  and  others  again  whispering 
strangely  about  Mr.  Valliscourt's  cold  and  cruel 
looks, —  while,  huddled  up  in  a  corner  at  the 
churchyard  gate  sat  the  forlorn  "  Hoddy-Doddy," 
blubbering  to  himself  and  refusing  to  be  comforted. 
"  No — no !"  he  muttered  vacantly  in  answer  to 
one  of  the  women  who  endeavoured  to  persuade 
him  to  accompany  them, — "I'll  stay  'ere.  Wi' 
the  children  an'  the  roses.  All  the  roses,  ...  all 
the  children,  .  .  .  dead ! — dead !  I'll  stay  'ere, — 
summer's  over  !" 

Mr.  Valliscourt  remained  in  the  churchyard  till 
the  little  crowd  had  quite  dispersed.  Standing  by 
his  son's  grave  he  gazed  fixedly  down  into  it,  saying 
nothing.  Reuben  Dale  watched  him  in  deep  com- 
passion for  a  moment, — then  he  murmured  gently, — 

"  God  comfort  ye,  sir,  on  this  sad  day !  He  alone 
can  help  ye  to  bear  sich  a  sore  an'  bitter  trou- 
ble!" 

Mr.  Valliscourt  started  irritably, — and  turned  to 
Professor  Cadman-Gore. 

"  Does  this  fellow  want  an  extra  fee  beyond  the 
ordinary  charges  ?" 

"  Good  God,  no !"  answered  the  Professor,  hastily, 
for  he  had  taken  the  measure  of  Reuben's  proud  and 
independent  character,  and  hoped  the  tactless  ques- 
tion had  not  been  overheard. 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 


3°7 


Reuben,  however,  had  caught  its  purport, — and 
he  now  looked  steadily  at  Mr.  Valliscourt,  with  a 
slight  flush  on  his  brown  cheeks. 

"  Ye  mistake  me,  sir,  altogether,  I'm  thinkin',"  he 
said,  with  a  simple  dignity  which  well  became  him, 
— "  Tis  a  matter  o'  barely  five  days  since  I  buried 
my  own  little  'un  here,  wi'  my  own  hands,  an'  my 
fool  tears  a-flowin'  on  her  coffin,  an'  though  you're 
a  gentleman  born,  an'  I'm  onny  a  poor  workin'  man, 
there's  summat  of  a  tie  atween  us  in  the  sorrow  o' 
our  broken  'arts.  For  our  two  childer  played  to- 
gether just  one  summer's  day,  an'  the  last  words 
that  iver  my  Jess'mine  said,  wos  '  Give  my  love  to 
Lylie.'  An'  the  poor  boy's  askin'  to  be  buried  be- 
side of  her  here  in  Combmartin,  showed  plain  enough 
that  he  thought  of  her  too,  when  he  took  to  his 
death  so  willing  like.  The  ways  o'  God  are  not  as 
our  ways,  sir,  an'  there  wos  a  heavenly  link  'tween 
they  two  little  angel  lives  as  we're  not  able  to  see. 
That  they  be  gone  an*  we  be  here,  is  better  for  them 
though  worse  fur  us, — an'  knowin'  all  the  ache  an' 
trouble  o'  the  time  I  made  bold  to  say  God  comfort 
ye,  without  meanin'  no  liberty  nor  offence,  nor  aught 
save  just  a  word  o'  sympathy  from  man  to  man." 

"  Sympathy  from  man  to  man !"  Mr.  Valliscourt 
stared  in  haughty  wonder  at  the  amazing  impudence 
of  this  coarsely  clad  peasant, — this  verger,  sexton, 


308  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

road-mender,  and  what  not, — who  dared  to  claim  a 
brotherhood  with  him  in  sorrow ! 

"  Thank  you  !"  he  said,  stiffly — "  You  mean  well, 
no  doubt.  Personally,  I  look  upon  the  day  that  my 
unfortunate  son  played  truant  from  his  home,  as  the 
most  ill-fated  of  his  life.  It  is  probable  that  had  he  not 
met  your  child,  and  afterwards  taken  her  loss  to  heart, 
he  might  not  have  met  with  such  an  unnatural  death. 
And  I  cannot  admit  of  there  being  any '  ways  of  God,' 
in  the  matter, — I  have  no  belief  in  a  God  at  all." 

A  shadow  darkened  Reuben's  fine  face,  but  he 
answered,  quietly, — 

"  Ay  sir !  is  that  so  ?  Then  I'm  sorrier  fur  ye 
than  iver !  There's  no  poor  soul  I  pity  more  than  a 
man  as  feels  no  God  near  'im.  Fur  a  grief  strikes 
ye  to  the  very  core  o'  the  heart  then,  an'  there's 
naught  can  heal  the  wound.  God  or  no  God,  ye 
can't  do  away  wi'  trouble, — ye've  lost  a  child !" 

Mr.  Valliscourt  looked  once  more  into  the  little 
open  grave, — then  at  the  sexton, — and  a  very  slight 
ironical  smile  lifted  the  corners  of  his  mouth  and 
gleamed  in  his  hard  eyes. 

"  Losses  can  always  be  remedied,"  he  said,  coldly, 
"And  I  shall  marry  again."  With  that  he  turned 
away,  and  walked  steadily  down  the  path  leading  to 
the  churchyard  gate,  never  once  looking  back. 

But  Professor  Cadman-Gore  lingered, — and  after 


THE  MIGHTY  ATOM.  309 

a  little  pause,  impulsively  lifted  his  old  wide-awake 
hat  from  his  bald  pate  with  one  hand,  and  silently 
held  out  the  other  to  Reuben.  Reuben,  astonished 
at  the  action,  hesitated  a  moment  out  of  deference, — 
but  looking  at  the  Professor's  face  and  seeing  tears 
in  his  old  eyes,  he  understood, — and  warmly  grasped 
the  scholar's  thin  fingers  in  his  own  rough  palm. 

"  I  loved  the  little  lad,"  said  the  Professor  then, 
tremulously, — "  I,  who  love  nobody,  learned  to  love 
him.  You  are  a  good  man,  and  you  have  a  heart, — 
I  need  not  ask  you  to  keep  his  grave  as, — as  it 
should  be.  His  father  will  dismiss  all  memory  of 
him  from  his  mind, — it  is  his  nature  to  forget  the 
dead.  But  I  should  not  like  the  poor  child's  last 
resting-place  to  be  neglected, — and  if  there  is  any 
cost  I  will  gladly  defray  it " 

But  here  Reuben  interrupted  him. 

"  Cost,  sir  ?  Nay,  there'll  be  no  cost  but  a  few 
tears  o'  mine  as  mebbe  will  help  the  flowers  grow ! 
For  he  lies  next  to  my  Jess'mine  ye  see,  sir, — there's 
barely  a  two-inch  distance  'tween  their  little  coffins; 
an'  as  long  as  I  live  an'  have  hands  to  work  wi',  so 
long  will  they  two  little  graves  be  the  sweetest  an' 
prettiest  i'  the  churchyard.  All  covered  wi'  the 
blessed  green  turf,  sir,  an'  planted  thick  wi'  vi'lets  an' 
daisies, — an'  the  cost  o'  they  things  is  onny  just  a 
little  love  an'  thoughtfulness." 


310  THE  MIGHTY  ATOM. 

The  Professor  looked  up, — then  down  ;  finally  he 
again  offered  his  hand,  and  again  Reuben  shook  it. 

"  Good-bye  !     God  bless  you  !"  he  said. 

"  God  bless  you,  sir !"  responded  Reuben. 

And  with  another  lingering  glance  of  farewell 
down  into  Lionel's  grave  where  nothing  could  be 
seen  but  a  pile  of  flowers,  the  learned  Professor  once 
more  raised  his  hat  to  the  untutored  villager,  and, 
reluctantly  departing,  went  his  lonely  and  reflective 
way. 

Long  before  the  shadows  darkened,  the  church- 
yard was  deserted  and  solitary,  though  in  the  church 
itself  the  organist  was  practising  for  the  coming 
Sunday,  and  the  sweet  appealing  notes  of  the  beau- 
tiful hymn,  "  Nearer,  my  God,  to  Thee,"  floated  out 
through  the  ancient  doorway  and  soared,  high  up, 
into  the  calm  air.  Lionel's  grave  was  closed  in,  and 
a  full-flowering  stem  of  the  white  lilies  of  St.  John 
lay  upon  it  like  an  angel's  sceptre.  Another  similar 
stem  adorned  the  grave  of  Jessamine ;  and  between 
the  two  little  mounds  of  earth,  beneath  which  two 
little  innocent  hearts  were  at  rest  forever,  a  robin- 
redbreast  sang  its  plaintive  evening  carol,  while  the 
sun  flamed  down  into  the  west  and  the  night  fell. 

THE   END. 


By  Julien  Gordon. 


"  Now  and  then,  to  prove  to  men— perhaps  also  to  prove  to 
themselves— what  they  can  do  if  they  dare  and  will,  one  of 
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arena  with  men,  to  fight  for  the  highest  prizes,  and  as  the 
brave  Gotz  says  of  Brother  Martin,  'shames  many  a  knight.' 
To  this  race  of  conquerers  belongs  to-day  one  of  the  first  living 
writers  of  novels  and  romances,  Julien  Gordon." 

FRIEDERICH  SPIELHAGEN. 


A  WEDDING,  and  Other  Stories. 
POPPyEA. 

A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY. 

A  SUCCESSFUL   MAN. 

VAMPIRES,  AND  MADEMOISELLE   RESEDA. 

Two  stories  in  one  book. 
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characters  are  clear-cut  and  distinct,  and  the  descriptions  picturesque.  As  for  the 
main  idea  of  '  A  Successful  Man,'  the  intersection  of  two  wholly  different  strata  of 
American  life, — one  fast  and  fashionable,  the  other  domestic  and  decorous, — it  is 
worked  out  with  much  skill  and  alertness  of  treatment  to  its  inevitably  tragic 
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J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY,  PHILADELPHIA. 


By  "Ouida.' 


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Signa.  Chandos. 

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Folle-Farine.  Under  Two  Flags. 

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Idalia.  In  Maremma. 

Randolph  Gordon.  Princess  Napraxine. 

Strathmore.  Wanda. 

I2mo.  Cloth,  Ji.oo;  paper,  40  cents. 


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}.  B.  L1PPINCOTT  COMPANY,  PHILADELPHIA. 


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Barbara  Dering, 

A  Sequel  to  "  The  Quick  or  the  Dead  ?  " 
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I2mo.     Cloth,  $1.00. 

"That  Miss  Rives  has  been  thought  worthy  of  recognition  at  the  hands  of 
critics  North  and  South  is  the  strongest  evidence  of  the  fact  she  has  done  something 
out  of  the  common,  and  we  will  preface  whatever  we  have  to  write  by  saying  that 
we  are  not  among  the  least  of  her  admirers." — Chicago  Times. 

"  The  novel  is  exciting,  notably  in  its  concluding  chapters,  and  it  shows  re- 
markable facility  in  literary  expression,  especially  in  the  dialogue." — Boston 
Gazette. 


].  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY,  PHILADELPHIA. 


By  Capt  Chas.  King,  U.S.A. 

Under  Fire,  illustrated.  The  Colonel's  Daughter,  illustrated. 
Marion's  Faith,  illustrated.     Captain  Blake,  illustrated. 

in    AmbuSh.     (Paper,  50  cents.) 
12010.     Cloth,  $1.25. 


Waring's  Peril.          Trials  of  a  Staff  Officer, 

i2ino.     Cloth,  $1.00. 


Kitty's  Conquest. 

Starlight  Ranch,  and  Other  Stories. 
Laramie;   or,  The  Queen  of  Bedlam. 
The  Deserter,  and  From  the  Ranks. 
Two  Soldiers,  and  Dunraven  Ranch. 
A  Soldier's  Secret,  and  An  Army  Portia. 
Captain  Close,  and  Sergeant  Croesus. 

121110.     Cloth,  $i. oo ;  paper,  50  cents. 


"  From  the  lowest  soldier  to  the  highest  officer,  from  the  servant  to 
the  master,  there  is  not  a  character  in  any  of  Captain  King's  novels 
that  is  not  wholly  in  keeping  with  expressed  sentiments.  There  is 
not  a  movement  made  on  the  field,  not  a  break  from  the  ranks,  not  an 
offence  against  the  military  code  of  discipline,  and  hardly  a  heart- 
beat that  escapes  his  watchfulness." — Boston  Herald. 


J.  B.  LIPP1NCOTT  COMPANY,  PHILADELPHIA. 


By  Frances  Courtenay  Baylor. 


On  Both  Sides. 

I2mo.     Cloth,  $1.25. 

"A  novel,  entertaining  from  beginning  to  end,  with  brightness  that  never  falla 
flat,  that  always  suggests  something  beyond  the  mere  amusement,  that  will  be  most 
enjoyed  by  those  of  most  cultivation,  that  is  clever,  keen,  and  intellectual  enough 
to  be  recognized  as  genuine  wit,  and  yet  good-natured  and  amiable  enough  to  be 
accepted  as  the  most  delightful  humor.  It  is  not  fun,  but  intelligent  wit :  it  is  not 
mere  comicality,  but  charming  humor ;  it  is  not  a  collection  of  bright  sayings  of 
clever  people,  but  a  reproduction  of  ways  of  thought  and  types  of  manner  infinitely 
entertaining  to  the  reader,  while  not  in  the  least  funny  to  the  actor,  or  intended  by 
him  to  appear  funny.  It  is  inimitably  good  as  a  rendering  of  the  peculiarities  of 
British  and  American  nature  and  training,  while  it  is  so  perfectly  free  from  anything 
like  ridicule,  that  the  victims  would  be  the  first  to  smile." —  The  Critic. 

Behind  the  Blue  Ridge. 

I2mo.     Cloth,  $1.25. 

"  It  is  lighted  through  and  through  by  humor  as  subtle  and  spontaneous  as  any 
that  ever  brightened  the  dark  pages  of  life  history,  and  is  warmed  by  that  keen 
sympathy  and  love  for  human  nature  which  transfigures  and  ennobles  everything  it 
touches." — Chicago  Tribune. 

"  Intensely  dramatic  in  construction,  rich  in  color,  picturesque  in  description, 
and  artistic  in  its  setting.  No  more  delightful  picture  of  the  every-day  life  of  the 
Virginia  mountaineers  could  well  be  imagined." — Philadelphia  Record. 


A  Shocking  Example,  and  Other  Sketches. 
I2mo.     Cloth,  $1.25. 

"  Rarely  have  we  enjoyed  a  more  delightful  series  of  literary  entertainments 
than  have  been  afforded  by  the  handsome  volume  containing  fourteen  stories  and 
sketches  from  the  bright  pen  of  Frances  Courtenay  Baylor,  whose  '  On  Both  Sides' 
has  won  for  her  so  enviable  a  reputation  on  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic." — Boston 
Home  Journal. 


Miss  Baylor's  complete  works  ("  A  Shocking  Example,"  "  On 
Both  Sides,"  and  "  Behind  the  Blue  Ridge"),  three  volumes,  in 
box,  £3.75.  

J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY,  PHILADELPHIA 


Mrs.  A.  L.  Wister' s  Translations. 

I2mo.     Cloth,  $  l.  oo  per  volume. 


COUNTESS  ERIKA'S  APPRENTICESHIP By  Ossip  Schubin. 

"O  THOU,  MY  AUSTRIA  !" • By  Ossip  Schubin. 

ERLACH  COURT By  Ossip  Schubin. 

THE  ALPINE  FAY By  E  Werner., 

THE  OWL'S  NEST By  E.  Marlitt. 

PICKED  UP  IN  THE  STREETS  .   .  .  • By  H.  Schobert. 

SAINT  MICHAEL By  E.  Werner. 

VIOLETTA By  Ursula  Zoge  von  Manteufel. 

THE  LADY  WITH  THE  RUBIES By  E.  Marlitt. 

VAIN  FOREBODINGS By  E  Oswald. 

A  PENNILESS  GIRL By  W.  Heimburg. 

QUICKSANDS By  Adolph  Streckfuss. 

BANNED  AND  BLESSED By  E.  Werner. 

A  NOBLE  NAME By  Claire  von  Glumer. 

FROM  HAND  TO  HAND By  Golo  Raimund. 

SEVERA By  E.  Hartner. 

A  NEW  RACE By  Golo  Raimund. 

THE  EICHHOFS By  Moritz  von  Reichenbach. 

CASTLE  HOHENWALD By  Adolph  Streckfuss. 

MARGARETHE By  E.  Juncker. 

Too  RICH By  Adolph  Streckfuss. 

A  FAMILY  FEUD By  Ludwig  Harder. 

THE  GREEN  GATE By  Ernst  Wichert. 

ONLY  A  GIRL By  Wilhelmine  von  Hillern. 

WHY  DID  HE  NOT  DIE  ? By  Ad.  von  Volckhauser. 

HULDA By  Fanny  Lewald. 

THE  BAILIFF'S  MAID By  E.  Marlitt. 

IN  THE  SCHILLINGSCOURT By  E.  Marlitt. 

COUNTESS  GISELA By  E.  Marlitt. 

AT  THE  COUNCILLOR'S By  E.  Marlitt. 

THE  SECOND  WIFE By  E.  Marlitt. 

THE  OLD  MAM'SELLE'S  SECRET By  E.  Marlitt. 

GOLD  ELSIE By  E.  Marlitt. 

THE  LITTLE  MOORLAND  PRINCESS By  E.  Marlitt. 


"  Mrs.  A.  L.  Wister,  through  her  many  translations  of  novels  from  the  Ger- 
man, has  established  a  reputation  of  the  highest  order  for  literary  judgment,  and  for 
a  long  time  her  name  upon  the  title-page  of  such  a  translation  has  been  a  sufficient 
guarantee  to  the  lovers  of  fiction  of  a  pure  and  elevating  character,  that  the  novel 
Would  be  a.  cherished  home  favorite.  This  faith  in  Mrs.  Wister  is  fully  justified  by 
the  fact  that  among  her  more  than  thirty  translations  that  have  been  published  by 
Lippincott's  there  has  not  been  a  single  disappointment.  And  to  the  exquisite 
judgment  of  selection  is  to  be  added  the  rare  excellence  of  her  translations,  which 
has  commanded  the  admiration  of  literary  and  linguistic  scholars." — Boston  Home 
Journal. 


J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY,  PHILADELPHIA. 


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